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LYRICS  AND  DRAMAS 


BY    THE     SAME    AUTHOR 

NEW  POEMS,  including  "  Endymion  "  and 

"  lole,"  a  Tragedy  in  One  Act. 
POEMS,  including  "Christ  in  Hades"  and 

"Marpessa." 
PAOLO  AND  FRANCESCA.     A  Tragedy 

in  Four  Acts. 
HEROD.     A  Tragedy  in  Three  Acts. 
MARPESSA.  Illustrated  by  Philip  Connard. 
THE  NEW  INFERNO.   A  Dramatic  Poem. 


LYRICS    AN 
DRAMAS 


BY 

STEPHEN  PHILLIPS 


NEW  YORK— JOHN  LANE  COMPANY 
LONDON— JOHN  LANE— THE  BODLEY  HEAD 
TORONTO— BELL  &   COCKBURN  —  MCMXHI 


28909 


CopyrJKht,  IQ13,  by 
JOHN  LANE  COMPANY 


Press  of  J.  J.  Little  &  Ives  Co. 
New  York,  U.  S.  A. 


J- 

) 


I 


^^ 


CONTENTS 


PAGE 


^i    LURES    IMMORTAL I 

iK    LIKE    TO    A    MORTAL    BARQUE 4 

^    DISILLUSIONED 5 


^-.... .....„..„         8 

^    TEARS       9 


APRIL 6 

.      BEAUTIFUL   LIE  THE   DEAD 

THE    RETURN 10 

'^t^E   THEN    YOUR    LIFE II 

^    CHILD    SADNESS 12 

^    AH,    WHEN? 14 

0    TO    MURIEL,    SINGING 16 

JJ*    AN   OCTOBER  DAY iS 

f^     THE     HOSPITAL     NURSE IQ 

IS 

WINTER     DAWN 21 

love's     TRANQUILLITY 22 

fi        A   WINTER   NIGHT 23 

DAWN     AND     LOSS 24 

P         THE    SMILE    OF    DANTE 26 

BEATRICE    CENCI 2/ 

SHAKESPEARE 29 

KEATS 31 

A   VIEW  OF  PETERBORO'    MINSTER    BY   MOONLIGHT  32 

V 


VI  CONTENTS 

PACE 

THE    REVEALED    MADONNA 34 

THE   WOMAN    AND   THE   FLOWER 35 

INVALIDED          3^ 

MY    DEAD    LOVE    ■      •       •. 3^ 

PROSPERITY 39 

CROMER    ABBEY 45 

KEATS    TO    FANNY    BRAWNE 47 

A    NIGHTMARE   OF   LONDON 49 

ENCHANTMENT S^ 

THE    DOOM    OF   SAILS 53 

THE   AEROPLANE 55 

MUSIC    AND    THE    WOMAN    SOUI 57 

THE     SUBMARINE 59 

AYE,    BUT    TO    DIE 6l 

THE    FIREMAN ^3 

EMILY  BRONTE 6$ 

THE    BLACK    PERIL 67 

THE    MISER    MOTHER 69 

THE    BLOW 71 

A     PARTING 73 

A    WOMAN          75 

A   BALLAD 7^ 

MARGARET          17 

LILY    AND    ROSE 79 

MABEL            °° 

DREAMS    AND    THE    DEAD 81 

TREES °2 

THE    SONG    OF    "rANJi" 83 

"cricket  I  sing" 84 

THE    ENGLISH    SABBATH 89 


CONTENTS  VU 

PAGE 

love  and  the  poet 90 

the  modern  lover 9i 

Miranda's   eyes 93 

NERo's   mother:   a    drama    in    ONE   ACT      ...  9$ 

the  adversary:  a  drama  in  one  act  of  four 

SCENES Il6 

the  king:  a  tragedy  in  a  continuous  series 

of  scenes 131 


LURES  IMMORTAL 

Sadly,  apparently  frustrate,  life  hangs  above 
us, 
Cruel,  dark,  unexplained ; 
Yet  still  the  immortal  through  mortal  inces- 
santly pierces 
With  calls,  with  appeals,  and  with  lures. 
Lure    of    the    sinking    sun,    into    undreamed 
islands. 
Fortunate,  far  in  the  West; 
Lure  of  the  star,  with  speechless  news  o'er- 
brimming. 
With  language  of  darted  light; 
Of  the  sea-glory  of  opening  lids  of  Aurora, 

Ushering  eyes  of  the  dawn; 
Of    the  callow    bird  in  the    matin    darkness 
calling. 
Chorus  of  drowsy  charm; 
Of    the    wind,    south-west,    with    whispering 
leaves  illumined. 


2  LYRICSANDDRAMAS 

Solemn  gold  of  the  woods; 
Of  the  intimate  breeze  of  noon,  deep-charged 
with  a  message, 
How  near,  at  times,  unto  speech! 
Of  the  sea,  that  soul  of  a  poet  a-yearn   for 
expression. 
For  ever  yearning  in  vain! 
Hoarse  o'er  the  shingle  with  loud,  unuttered 
meanings. 
Hurling  on  caverns  his  heart. 
Of  the  summer  night,  what  to  communicate, 
eager  ? 
Perchance  the  secret  of  peace. 
The  lure  of   the  silver  to  gold,   of  the  pale 
unto  colour, 
Of  the  seen  to  the  real  unseen; 
Of  voices  away  to  the  voiceless,  of  sound  unto 
silence, 
Of  words  to  a  wordless  calm; 
Of  music,  doomed  unto  wandering,   still  re- 
turning 
Ever  to  heaven  and  home. 
The  lure  of  the  beautiful  woman  through  flesh 
unto  spirit. 
Through  a  smile  unto  endless  light; 


LURES     IMMORTAL  3 

Of  the  flight  of  a  bird  thro'  evening  over  the 
marsh-land, 
Lingering  in  heaven  alone; 
Of  the  vessel  disappearing  over  the  sea-marge, 

With  him  or  with  her  that  we  love ; 
Of  the  sudden  touch  in  the  hand  of  a  friend 
or  a  maiden. 
Thrilling  up  to  the  stars. 
The  appealing  death  of  a  soldier,  the  moon 
just  rising, 
Kindling  the  battlefield ; 
Of  the  cup  of  water,  refused  by  the  thirsting 
Sidney, 
Parched  with  the  final  pang: 
Of  the  crucified  Christ,  yet  lo,  those  arms  ex- 
tended, 
Wide,  as  a  world  to  embrace ; 
And  last,  and  grandest,  the  lure,  the  invitation. 

And  sacred  wooing  of  Death ; 
Unto   Vv'hat   regions,    or   heavens,    or   solemn 
spaces. 
Who,  but  by  dying,  can  tell? 


LIKE  TO  A  MORTAL  BARQUE 

Like  to  a  mortal  barque, 
Touching  a  fairy  shore ; 

Half    wondering,    half    in    dread, 
I  fear  to  know  thee  more. 


Safer  the  open  sea, 
Kinder  large  sunshine. 

Than  island  perilous 
On  the  green  sea-line. 


DISILLUSIONED 

Doth  Viola  seem  so  cold?    Yet  virgin  she 
Disclosed  unto  the  evening  her  full  soul, 
Telling  her  tale  unto  the  violets, 
Her  history  to  the  lilies,  while  the  sun 
Of  passion  glimmered  to  a  gloomy  west. 
Thinking  to  clasp  a  God  her  arms  enwrapped 
Merely  a  solemn  statue  without  life. 
Faultless,  approved,  a  stiff  unmeaning  form, 
That  which  he  seemed,   dreaming  she  made 

him  seem. 
The  dream  is  dead,  the  hollow  form  remains. 
Frail-flaming  June,  to  what  a  bareness  fallen! 
None  now  can  matter,  after  him  she  found 
So  little,  whom  she  cherished  as  so  great. 
One  leap  her  being  made,  and  missed  the  leap, 
Now  must  she  crawl  her  way  for  evermore. 


APRIL 

O  BRIEF  and  swift  and  sweet, 

April  appears, 
Fickle,  and  shy,  and  fleet, 

Laughing   through   tears. 
Fitful  and  all  afret. 

With  shower  and  gleam, 
Magical  mischief,  yet 

Greenly  adream. 
For  she,  so  frailly  fair, 

Shall   bring  to   pass 
Pomps  of  the  purple  air. 

Glory  of  grass. 
Surely  the  elf  shall  yield 

With  moody  moon. 
Gold  of  the  mellow  field. 

Riches  of  noon. 
E'en  as  a  girl  unsure. 

With  hair  unbound, 
6 


APRIL 

Yet  may  a  poet  lure 

To  song  profound. 
And,  though  she  may  not  reap, 

But  passeth  by. 
She  shall  array  the  deep 

Rose  of  July. 


BEAUTIFUL  LIE  THE  DEAD 

Beautiful  lie  the  dead ; 

Clear  comes  each   feature; 
Satisfied  not  to  be, 
Strangely  contented. 


Like  ships,  the  anchor  dropped. 

Furled  every  sail  is ; 
Mirrored  with  all  their  masts 

In  a  deep  water. 


TEARS 

Sad  is  the  crystal  tear 
From  eyes  of  youth, 

Sadder  the  slower  drops 
Of  married  ruth. 


Sad  tears  of  maid  or  wife. 
Brimming  to  fall; 

Often  the  tearless  eye 
Saddest  of  all. 


THE  RETURN 

Slow  falls  the  sun,  with  slowly  failing  birds, 

And  a  breeze  of  night! 
Silent  and  returning  herds 

Through  lingering  light! 

Sated  with  seas,  with  stark  and  foreign  towns, 

Green  grass  again! 
I  stride  once  more  the  spreading  downs, 

Then  find  the  lane. 

The  tree,  the  brook  and  the  wild  garden,  all 

Have  kept  their  place ; 
The  sigh,  the  ripple  I  recall, 

But  fled  thy  face! 


lO 


BE  THEN  YOUR  LIFE 

Be  then  your  life  as  a  swan  that  cahiily  glideth 

On  a  full  river! 
Mine  as  the  bird  storm-tost 

In  cloud  for  ever. 


Yet  the  calm  for  a  hell  without  colour  shall 
smoothly  prepare  thee, 

Sealing  thy  spirit; 
But  tempest  and  heaven  shall  I 

Wildly  inherit. 


■II 


CHILD  SADNESS 

I 

Child  of  a  life  so  soft, 

Laughter  and  sleep, 
Why  grow  thine  eyes  so  oft 

Solemn  and  deep? 

II 

What  of  the  gathering  snow, 
Winters  that  weary  us? 

Sprite,    dost    thou    lightly    know, 
IMomently  serious. 

Ill 

What  amid  all  thy  joys 

Shadow  of  sorrow? 
What  amid  all  those  toys, 

Fear  of  to-morrow? 

12 


CHILD     SADNESS  13 

IV 

Flitting  in  pink  or  white 

Over  the  lawn, 
Feelst  thou  a  chill  of  msht 

Coming  on  dawn  ? 

V 

Or  did  the  fairies  tell 

Thee  in  a  dream, 
What  we  have  learned  too  well, 

Gloom  after  gleam? 

VI 

Came  they  through  heavy  dews 

Under  red  skies, 
Bringing  thee  silent  news. 

Making  thee  wise? 

VII 

Grief  never  came  to  thee 

Through  earthly  portal, 
Yet  in  thine  eyes  I  see 

Sadness  immortal. 


AH,  WHEN? 

I  CAME  at  eve  on"  a  sunset  field  unknown  to  me, 

Unknown  and  yet  known. 
Here  did  I  run  as  a  boy,  or  loitered  a  lover. 

Ah,  when? 
I  came  at  dawn  on  a  river,  visited  never. 

Strange,  yet  unstrange. 
For  I  could  follow  faithful  the  wind  of  that 
river 
Away  to  sea. 
I  was  driven  late  in  the  night  to  the  house  of 
a  stranger. 
Never  that  house  had  I  seen ; 
Though  I  never  slept  in  it,  yet  could  I  tell 
each  room  of  it, 
I  knew  my  way. 
At  times  a  lonely  face   from  a  crowd  looks 
out  at  me, 
Startling  me,  wherefore? 

14 


A  H,     W  H  E  N   ?  15 

That  sudden,  flitting  face  I  remember  dimly, 

Dimly  familiar. 
They  played  me  music  at  midnight,  never  yet 
heard  by  me; 

Unheard,  yet  heard, 
Ah,  when? 


TO  MURIEL,  SINGING 


High  the  soprano  goes, 
Shrill  to  the  noon, 
Yet  thy  contralto 
Makes  for  the  moon. 

II 

Though  in  that  earthly  voice 
Melody  clear, 
In  thy  unearthly  song, 
Music  more  dear. 

Ill 

Though  she  so  plainly  sings 
Moving  the  crowd; 
Thou   dost   a  meaning  bring. 
Low,  but  not  loud. 
i6 


TO     MURIEL,     SINGING  ^7 

IV 

All  we  have  wished  to  say 
Though  but  in  dream ; 
Dawn  and  the  midnight   come 
From  thee  astream. 


Some  may,  no  doubt,  deHght 
In  clearer  sound, 
Yet  in  thy  note  have  I 
More  meaning  found. 


VI 

Wail  for  a  world  gone  by, 
Battle  and  prayer. 
Who  should  express  but  thou, 
Deeply  aware  ? 


AN  OCTOBER  DAY 

Through  dry  and  hurrying  leaves 

Golden  our  way; 
Sound  of  the  wind,  south-west 

From  the  wild  day! 

Wild  all  thy  loosened  hair, 

Blown  in  my  eyes; 
Till  thou  dost  seem  a  part 

Of  autumn  skies. 

Wild  from  the  setting  sun 

Rushes  the  rain; 
Ah,  be  it  true  or  false, 

Thy  kiss  again! 


i8 


THE  HOSPITAL  NURSE 

(The  real  tragedy  of  the  wards) 

Time  was,  when  filled  with  ministering  dew, 
I  like  an  angel  to  the  bedside  flew 
Of  writhing  anguish,  or  insane  distress, 
Of  marred  and  mutilated  wretchedness. 
I  might  not  sleep  for  some  remembered  cry. 
Or  upward  stare  of  fixed  agony. 
My  heart  beat  fast  at  sorrow  not  my  own. 
Easily  melting  at  another's  moan. 
Alas,  a  gradual  apathy  congeals 
My  blood,  my  heart,  and  all  that  in  me  feels. 
Punctual,  timed,  obedient  to  the  clock, 
Howe'er  the  injured  on  his  pillow  rock; 
This  very  heart  within  me  does  but  tick. 
And  dead  that  sympathy  that  once  was  quick. 
Almost  I  envy  now  the  thrilling  throe, 
Of  hope  and  fear  the  furious  ebb  and  flow, 
Which  these  upon  their  couches  undergo. 

19 


20  L  Y  R  I  C  S    A  N  D    D  R  A  M  A  S 

More  tragic  is  my  soft  and  noiseless  tread, — 
This  service  from  the  dying  to  the  dead ; 
This  grey  acquaintance  with  fierce  suffering, 
And  bosom  proof  against  the  sharpest  sting, 
Fearless  familiarity  with  pain; 
The  dreadful  victory  of  pity  slain. 
The  touch  unerring  and  the  finger  sure. 
Yet  all  within  now  stricken  beyond  cure ! 


WINTER  DAWN 

Stillness  and  creeping  of  colour, 
A  flushing  of  gold  and  of  red; 
Opening  eyes  of  Aurora, 
Roused  from  a  crocus  bed. 

Voices  of  kine  from  the  meadows, 
Weary  of  waning  night; 
Birds  in  a  husky  chorus, 
Darkly  aware  of  light. 

Lamps  in  the  valley  appearing. 
Bright  spurts,  one  after  one; 
A  joyous  crackle  of  faggots, 
And  the  heavy  night  is  gone. 


21 


LOVE'S  TRANQUILLITY 

Dearest,  our  love  is  not  of  dark  or  bright, 

Or  verses  murmured   in  midnight; 

Nor  hath  it  aid  from  starHght  or  the  moon, 

Or  musie's  long  and  splendid  swoon. 

Not  time,  nor  distance  over  it  have  power, 

No,  nor  the  dead  and  wingless  hour. 

Though  simple  and  of  everyday  it  seem. 

It  holds  the  quality  of  dream, 

O,  it  is  proof  against  delay  and  death, 

And  hath  a  tranquil  morning  breath ; 

Is  fragrant  as  the  wild  and  wayside  rose 

That  over  grass  and  hedgerow  blows. 

It  hath  a  very  real  life  in  the  sun, 

Scatheless  and  dateless  shall  it  run; 

Do  others  call  it  cold  and  without  life, 

Since  in  it  is  no  kind  of  strife? 

Ah  no,  its  peace  is  kindled  from  white  flame, 

And  from  the  core  of  fire  it  came. 


22 


A  WINTER  NIGHT 

Let  others  land  the  summer's  languorous  light 

And  lucid  glow ; 
For  me  this  dim,  unruly  winter  night, 

Wild  winds  that  blow! 
Without,  uproar  and  storm  upon  the  pane, 

Turmoil  and  cries; 
The  loud  lamenting  of  the  hurricane, 

The  sleet  that  flies! 
Within,  this  satisfying  silence  deep, 

With  no  desire; 
An  apathy  divine,  surpassing  sleep. 

And  kindly  fire. 
That  outward  conflict  brings  an  inward  truce 

Within  this  breast. 
The  elemental  strife  doth  but  induce 

A  deeper  rest. 


23 


DAWN  AND  LOSS 

I  LACK  thee  in  the  noonday  Hght, 
I  want  thee  in  the  deep  of  night, 
But  most,  when  sadder  than  all  words, 
I  hear  the  voice  of  waking  birds. 

Then  seem  I  most  of  all  forlorn, 
When  the  grey  hour  is  crudely  born. 
There  is  no  mercy  in  that  ray, 
On  hopeless  fancies  comes  the  day. 

Then  is  the  hollow  world  remade, 
God !  But  the  image  will  not  fade ! 
That  ghostly  chorus  from  the  leaves ! 
Reminds  and  yet  again  bereaves! 

The  widowing  beam  upon  me  falls. 
And  to  a  grey  remembrance  calls; 
Re-builded  is  the  massy  loss. 

And  re-erected  is  the  cross. 

24 


DAVVNANDLOSS  25 

For  in  that  dimness  we  had  speech 
Simple  and  prudent,  each  to  each; 
Slow  on  my  shoulder  fell  thy  head, 
I  held  thee  close  as  skies  grew  red. 


O  dear  wert  thou  in  silent  dew! 
Thrice  dear  in  deepening  of  the  blue ! 
But  now  I  see  from  this  dark  room 
Only  the  glimmer  of  a  tomb. 


THE  SMILE  OF  DANTE 

Whence   dost    thou   wear   that   smile,   grim 

Florentine, 
That  somewhat  softens  a  too  tense  distress, 
Giving  a  gentleness  to  each  harsh  line, 
And  something  of  more  human  wistfulness? 
Was  it  when  thou  didst  hear  behind  thee  said : 
"Lo,  there  the  man  who  goeth  down  to  hell; 
"And  holds  a  solemn  converse  with  the  dead, 
"Whence  earthward  comes  he  all  the  world 

to  tell." 
Why  doth  that  softness  on  thy  lips  abide. 
And  tenderness  about  thy  mouth  remain? 
Is  it  some  sweetness  caught  from  her  that  died 
And  whom  thou  wast  allowed  to  see  again? 
Still  thou  dost  smile  in  answer  to  her  smile, 
Given    to    sustain    thee    through    this    world 

awhile  ? 


26 


BEATRICE  CENCI 

Who  stealeth  down  the  turret-stair 
In  raiment  white  with  streaming  hair? 
The  moon  is  hid,  the  stars  are  pale, 
The  night-wind  hath  forgot  to  wail. 
Like  to  a  priestess  seemeth  she 
Addressed  to  some  dread  ministry. 
What  solemn  sacrifice  or  rite 
Comes  she  to  celebrate  this  night? 
A  deed  of  Hell,  and  yet  of  Heaven, 
Into  these  slender  hands  is  given ; 
Blood  must  she  spill,  but  evil  blood. 
As  evil  as  hath  ever  flowed. 
Now  enters  she  the  moonlit  room, 
She  sees  a  bed  bright  in  the  gloom; 
Whereon  an  old  man  slumbers  deep; 
Ah,  God,  how  well  the  wicked  sleep! 
But  a  faint  breathing  all  she  hears, 
As  silently  the  couch  she  nears. 

27 


28  I.  Y  R  I  C  S     A  N  D    D  R  A  M  A  S 

Now  the  bright  dagger  at  her  ])rcast 

She  pUicks  from  out  her  maiden  vest. 

Why  hesitates  she?  and  a  space 

Uncertain  stands  above  that  face? 

Is  it  some  memory  of  youth, 

That  brings  upon  her  heart  this  ruth? 

Some  far-off  picture  that  she  sees, 

When  she  was  dandled  on  his  knees  ? 

Is  it  the  hair,  so  utter  white. 

Hair  that  shoukl  seem  a  holy  sight? 

Then  the  red  shame  leaps  to  her  heart, 

And  furious  thoughts  again  upstart. 

O'er  him  she  leans ;  no  eyelid  he 

Stirs  as  tho'  warned  of  destiny. 

What  cry  was  that  ?    A  single  cry. 
That  pierced  the  palace  to  the  sky  ? 
And  then  came  down  a  silence  deep, 
Yet  had  each  sleeper  leapt  from  sleep, 
And  wandering  lights  and  hurrying  feet, 
Hither  and  thither  shadows  fleet. 
But  she  in  silence  pure  and  clean 
Passed  to  her  chamber  all  unseen. 


SHAKESPEARE 


Others  have  pictured  thee  as  mild  and  bland, 
And  of  a  cloudless  boundless  human  view ; 
Of  calm  regard  and  of  composure  grand, 
To  whom  was  nothing  strange,  and  nothing 

new. 
Not  thus  do  I  conceive  thee ;  but  as  one 
That  bitterly  exclaimed  on  human  doom, 
And  as  a  spirit  sad  beneath  the  sun, 
And  dreading  a  worse  thing  beyond  the  tomb. 
Man  but  "an  angry  ape"  appeared ;  who  fed 
With  torment  laughter  of  the  gods  on  high; 
Lear  on  the  heath,  Othello  by  the  bed 
Awakened  but  the  mockery  of  the  sky. 
And  ah !  in  this  dark  welter  of  the  soul 
No  guide  art  thou  and  urgest  to  no  goal. 

29 


30  LYRICS    AND    DRAMAS 

II 

O  true  that  thou  couldst  warble  pastoral  bliss. 
Of  forest  and  green  field  and  fairy  land. 
Since   to    thy   boundless    reach    nought   came 

amiss, 
Thou  to  the  nearest  task  didst  set  thy  hand. 
And  yet  thy  deepest  hour  was  vast  despair. 
And  the  true  mood  of  thee  was  dark  and  fell ; 
Then  heaven  with  human  lightning  didst  thou 

bare, 
Thy  thunder  echoed  in  the  pools  of  hell. 
A  sunny  smiler  all  with  God  at  rest. 
This   would   they  have  thee    for   thy   lighter 

strain. 
To  me  a  rebel  dost  thou  stand  con f est, 
With  mighty  mutiny  of  heart  and  brain; 
And  in  no  vale  of  Arden  thy  renown, 
But  accusation  of  the  heavens  thy  crown. 


KEATS 

Lament  is  made  that  thou  wast  all  too  young, 
When  Death  to  silence  carried  thee  away, 
With  brain  ungleaned,  and  many  songs  un- 
sung, 
Giving  the  promise  of  so  fair  a  day. 
But  I  have  seen  more  glory  in  sunrise 
Than  in  the  deepening  of  the  azure  noon. 
Gleaming  untimely  gold  in  fairer  skies 
Than  ever  lay  about  an  arctic  moon. 
And  I  have  caught  in  darkness  ere  the  sun, 
A  lovelier-liquid  note  from  matin  bird 
Warbled,  than  when  the  full  day  had  begun, 
Or  in  the  mid-day  splendour  I  have  heard. 
Better  to  leave  behind  a  world  to  sigh, 
Than  living  fail  a  world  to  satisfy. 


31 


A   VIEW   OF   PETKRBORO'    MINSTER 
BY  MOONLIGHT 

Threading  the  narrow  ways  of  the  town  of 
my  boyhood 
In  silence  of  moon  and  frost; 
Sudden  I  paused  and  caught  my  breath  in  a 
wonder, 
^^^ondered,  and  held  my  breath. 
The  minster  arose,  no  longer  the  pile  I   re- 
membered 
Of  solid  masonry  built; 
But  an  exhalation,  of  solemn  silver  enchanted, 

A  vision,  no  thing  of  stone. 
Like  the  vast  and  beautiful  sigh  of  a  wander- 
ing angel 
Here  translated  to  earth. 
Or  the  tear  of  a  spirit  for  all  humanity  fallen, 

The  tear  of  an  exiled  God. 
And  I  feared,  as  I  stood,  that  it  might  in  a 
moment  vanish, 

32 


VIEW  OF  PETERBORO'  J.I  INSTER  33 

Vanish  and  utterly  fade; 
Frail  as  a  visible  prayer  up-breathed  to  the 
midnight, 
Starlike  ending  in  stars. 
And  I  thought  of  the  priestly  masons  of  times 
forgotten 
Who  builded,  and  building  hymned. 
Had  the  mighty  church  become  indeed  as  a 
vision, 
A  fair  intangible  dream? 
And  aisle  and  transept  and  choir  created  of 
moonlight 
To  melt  in  the  rising  sun? 
So  musing  I   roamed  thro'  the  precinct  and 
dead  reposing, 
But  sudden  I  knew  and  I  wept ; 
For  I  came  at  last  to  a  tomb  with  splendour 
lighted, 
And  the  stone  inscribed  with  thy  name. 


THE  REVEALED  MADONNA 

As  I  stood  in  the  tavern-reek,  amid  oaths  and 
curses, 
Mid  husbands  entreated  and  drugged, 
Amid  mothers  poisoned  and  still  of  the  poison 
sipping, 
Here  harboured  from  storms  of  home; 
For  a  moment  the   evil   glare  on   a   woman 
falling 
Disclosed  her  with  babe  at  her  breast ; 
An  instant  she  downward  gazed  on  the  babe 
that  slumbered, 
And  holy  the  tavern  grew, 
For  she  gazed  with  the  brooding  look  of  the 
mother  of  Jesus, 
On  her  lips  the  divine  half-smile; 
An  instant  she  smiled;  then  the  tavern  reeled 
back  hell-ward, 
And  I  heard  but  the  oath  and  the  curse. 


34 


THE  WOMAN  AND  THE  FLOWER 

I  CAME  into  a  garret  where  one  lay 

A  woman  dying:  round  her  children  starved 

And  piteously  entreated  her  for  bread. 

Her  husband  in  the  tavern  drank  and  sang. 

Scarce  could  she  speak,  but  on  the  coverlid 

The    veined    hand    a    wild    flower    held    and 

clasped. 
I  spoke  to  her  of  help,  of  life  restored, 
Of  hunger  satisfied :  she  answered  me : 
*'The  hunger  that  I  have  is  for  the  flower; 
A  deeper  hunger  than  for  any  food. 
Why  was  I  given  this  in  my  life  so  late? 
I  did  not  know  such  things  were  in  the  world. 
Its  colour  kills  me  and  the  scent  it  gives. 
I  could  not  rise  up  in  this  weary  world 
Again;  I  have  seen  this  and  I  long  to  go 
After  it,  follow  it  somewhere  thro'  the  dark. 
So  soft,  so  bright  it  claims  me:  let  me  die." 
That  night  she  died ;  the  stumbling  husband 

found 
Her  cold,  but  in  her  hand  fixed  was  the  flower. 

35 


INVALIDED 


To  England  bear  him  wounded  deep; 

Home  to  this  island  breeze; 
To  leaves  that  medicine  the  brain, 

And  ministering  trees. 


II 

Where  if  he  upward  look,  no  vault 
Of  fire  his  eyes  shall  view; 

But  softer  skies  of  passing  cloud, 
Grey  with  a  soul  of  blue. 

Ill 

And  like  a  sister  be  the  breeze, 
Star  like  a  mother  bend, 

And  all-restoring  Nature  now 
The  wounded  soldier  tend. 
36 


INVALIDED  ^7 

IV 

At  dawn  the  odorous  unseen  bush 

Into  his  room  be  blown ; 
England  through  open  window  sweet 

Wafted  from  fields  unknown! 


V 


Till  that  first  zest  of  life  return 
Upon  a  heart  close-sealed ; 

And  like  a  child,  and  yet  a  man, 
He  walks  his  native  field. 


MY  DEAD  LOVE 


(Addition  to  the  sequence  entitled  "The  Ap- 
parition," in  the  author's  vokmic  "Poems" 
1898) 


My  dead  love  came  to  me  in  haste, 
And  stood  beside  my  bed, 

"Ah,  why  art  thou  so  long  away, 
Leaving  me  lone?"  I  said. 


II 


"Dearest,  so  many  tasks  and  toils 

Are  set  the  soul  above; 
And   dreadful   errands   that   make   pure, 

Belittle  earthly  love." 


38 


PROSPERITY 
A  modern  ballad 


Wife,  though  the  board  between  us  gleams 

With  glass  and  silver  cell ; 
And  though  in  splendid  silence  stands 

Each  liveried  sentinel; 

II 

Though  heavily  the  table  glows, 

With  many  a  monstrous  bloom, 
And  all  of  comfort  and  of  cheer 

Forbids  the  human  gloom; 

III 

There  is  a  gulph  between  us  fixt, 

Our  souls  can  never  cross. 
Nor  you  to  me,  nor  I  to  you, 

Yet  ours  no  tragic  loss. 

39 


40  LYRICS     AND    DRAMAS 

IV 

No  doubt,  or  soiled   faith  hath  raised 

The  irremeable  sea, 
That  sunders  with  a  silent  surge 

The  shores  of  you  and  me. 

V 

No  festering  secret  such  as  eats 

Into  an  olden  love, 
No  white  confession  in  moonlight 

This  separation  wove. 

VI 

No  glamour  in  a  slow  decline, 

Or  magic  dead  with  days, 
Nor  passion  into  friendship  fled. 

Nor  discontinued  praise. 

VII 

True  is  it  that  no  child  was  born 
To  bind  us  with  bright  eyes; 

Or  with  its  babble  draw  us  close, 
Its  chuckle  at  the  skies. 


PROSPERITY  41 

VIII 

Yet  others  closer-knit  have  lived, 

Joined  by  a  yearning  dumb ; 
Though  unconfessed,  how  deep  the  wish 

Burned,  and  was  never  numb. 

IX 

O  smooth  and  rich  and  still  our  life. 

And  oiled  in  every  wheel; 
Anticipating  every  care 

Noiseless  the  servants  steal. 

X 

You  love  your  music,  I  my  book; 

By  some  tremendous  chord, 
Your  soul  is  shaken  in  your  stall, 

And  with  you  is  the  Lord. 

XI 

A  moment  is  your  craving  fed. 

Unspoiled  by  human  speech  ; 
You  leave  the  holy  place;  with  all 

Your  soul  beyond  my  reach. 


42  LYRICS    AND    DRAMAS 

XII 

Then  should  I  meet  you  on  the  stair, 

You  tremble  as  with  sin; 
No  murderess  issued  from  the  bed 

Could  seem  more  dark  within. 

XIII 

In  deepest  courtesy  we  pass; 

Yet  never  a  word  is  said ; 
As  two  ships  without  hail  by  night 

Pass  when  the  moon  is  dead. 

XIV 

Decorous  and  slow  each  seventh  day 
We  to  the  church  proceed 

Yet  what  have  we  to  be  forgiven, 
What  absolution  need? 

XV 

Our  custom  good ;  the  vergers  fly 

Like  salesmen  in  a  shop, 
In  case  the  hassocks  are  too  few, 

Or  we  a  book  should  drop. 


PROSPERITY  43 

XVI 

So  hour  by  hour,  and  day  by  day, 

From  placid  week  to  week, 
Existence  keeps  its  ordered  path, 

Arranged  each  thing  we  seek. 

XVII 

Yet  why,  O  wife,  do  you  and  I 

Scarce  dare  to  speak  or  meet? 
What  is  the  trouble  twixt  us  two? 

A  severance  so  complete? 

XVIII 

Wife,  there  hath  dripped  between  our  souls 

A  dreary  rain  of  days; 
Better  mistake,  or  quarrel  fierce, 

Better  some  spark  or  blaze ! 

XIX 

Softness  hath  worn  our  love  away; 

And  smoothness  passion  slain; 
The  dreadful  gliding  of  a  life. 

Unprivileged  by  pain. 


44  LYRICS    AND    DRAMAS 

XX 

O  let  us  tear  us  from  this  ease, 

And  wheresoever  hurled. 
Into  the  battle  let  us  rush, 

And  grapple  with  the  world. 


CROMER  ABBEY 

Here  are  the  crimson  flowers  of  sleep, 
But  in  this  marsh  may  no  man  reap; 
More  barren  than  the  sea  this  land. 
More  sterile  than  the  ocean  sand. 
And  league  on  league  is  flat  and  dead, 
O'erflowing  all  with  poppies  red. 
For  evermore  unharvested. 
Yet  springing  from  sterility 
The  abbey  rises  to  the  sky, 
Fissured  by  years  and  rent  with  time. 
And  yet  bare-headed  and  sublime. 
More  beautiful  than  any  flower 
Stands    from  the  waste  the  reverend   tower, 
A  luin,  lonely  to  the  air; 
Massy,  memorial,  and  bare. 
Where  now  are  they,  those  holy  men. 
Who  laboured  the  unyielding  fen? 
Who  leaning  on  a  spade  would  pray, 
And  toiling  carol  all  the  day, 

45 


46 


LYRICS    AND    DRAMAS 


Sending  a  lonely  psalm  on  high, 
Or  hymn  uplifting  to  the  sky? 
Some  say  that  still  at  deep  midnight 
You  may  behold  a  solemn  sight 
Of  cowled  men  in  order  go, 
Passing  in  silence  to  and  fro ; 
Till  once  again  a  bell  is  rung 
And  once  the  ancient  anthem  sung; 
Then  all  the  throng  will  disappear. 
Leaving  the  dreariness  more  drear. 
Howe'er  that  be;  now  but  remains 
The  unpeopled  flatness  of  the  plains. 


KEATS  TO  FANNY  BRAWNE 

You  are  the  spirit  of  the  haunted  mere, 
O'erhung  by  whispering  fohage,  and  you  wear 
The  shifting  silver  of  the  wayward  moon; 
In  you  lies  all  the  glory  of  the  world, 
The  splendours  and  the  shadows  of  the  sea; 
And  all  that  grows  and  glows  in  you  is  shown. 
Red  clouds  of  morning  and  the  last  of  day. 
You  are  that  Helen  whose  sweet  smile  allured 
The  Grecian  keels  across  Ionian  foam; 
I  think  of  you  with  all  those  damsels  bright, 
Who,  rising  from  green  waves  or  forests  dark. 
Waylaid  the  traveller  to  a  perilous  doom, 
Whether  to  silent  foam  of  fairyland, 
Or  the  dense  secret  of  entangling  woods. 
And  all  about  you  is  the  mystery 
That  haunts  and  tempts,  and  gleams,  but  ever 

flees. 
And  yet  at  times  I  feel  you  but  a  shadow, 
Owing  your  magic  to  this  fiery  soul ; 
I,  I  with  golden  fable  gird  you  round, 

47 


48  LYRICS    AND    DRAMAS 

Or  with  a  silver  mist  of  antique  dawn, 
With   shapes    from   gorgeous   cloudland   and 

from  dream. 
And  ah,  my  tarrying  with  you  is  but  brief, 
For  death,  red-bright,  wells  upward  on  my  lips. 


A  NIGHTMARE  OF  LONDON 

I  DREAMED  3.  dream,  perhaps  a  prophecy ! 
That  London  over  England  spread  herself; 
Swallowed    the   green   field   and   the    waving 

plain, 
Till  all  this  island  grew  one  hideous  town. 
And  as  I  gazed  in  terror  rooted,  so 
The  City  seemed  to  take  a  dreadful  life, 
To  be  a  monster  that  desired  and  felt ; 
And  still  did  she  perceptibly  advance, 
Blacken  and  grasp  and  seize  and  wither  up. 
Northward  she  spread,  and  did  assimilate 
Her  sister  cities  of  the  loom  and  wheel 
That  welcomed  her  with  whirring  ecstasies; 
She  made  the  sky  a  pall,  and  as  she  moved, 
Blighted  the  breathing  forests  and  the  woods, 
And  where  the  flower  grew,  now  her  pave- 
ment lay. 
And   all   the   air   grew   dark,    and  there   was 
heard, 

49 


so  LYRICS    AND    DRAMAS 

In  place  of  rippling  wave  and  whispering  wind, 
Only  the  hoot  of  griding  car,  the  shriek 
And  fiery  belch  of  engines  to  the  cloud. 
A  human  army  from  before  her  fled; 
But  swollen,  spiderish,  without  shape  or  sleep. 
She  stole,  till  now  opposed  her  but  the  sea; 
Ocean  preserved  his  sanctity  of  foam. 


ENCHANTMENT : 

'Woman  Wailing  for  Her  Demon  Lover' 

Singing  through  the  corn  she  goes ; 
She  no  mortal  sorrow  knows ; 
Singing  clear  as  doth  a  brook, 
Rilling  in  a  secret  nook. 


Virgin  is  she  in  her  thought, 
Lonely  is  she  and  unsought; 
All  her  soul  is  pure  and  free, 
Still  as  is  the  frozen  sea. 


Yet  away !  Nor  come  again ! 
For  to  love  her  were  but  pair 
Vainly,  vainly  to  pursue. 
Eyes  of  light  and  luring  blue. 


52  LYRICS    AND    DRAMAS 

Tell  your  passion !  take  her  hand ! 
Ah !  she  cannot  understand 
Beautiful  exceedingly; 
Perfect  and  without  pity. 


Flee  the  maiden,  lest  she  speak 

The  faery  word,  that  makes  thee  weak! 

She  they  say  in  moonlight  whist 

By  a  demon  hath  been  kissed. 


THE  DOOM  OF  SAILS 

Alas  !  must  ye  utterly  vanish,  and  cease  from 
amidst  us, 
Sails  of  the  olden  sea? 
Now  dispossessed  by  the  stern  and   stunted 
ironclad. 
Wingless  and  squat  and  stern  ? 
Purple  sails  of  the  heroes  lured  to  the  West- 
ward, 
Spread  for  the  golden  isles ! 
Sails  of  a  magic  foam  with  faery  plunder, 

Wafting  the  wizard  gold ! 
Sails  of  the  morning,  come  like  ghosts  on  the 
sea-line, 
With  midnight  load  of  the  deep! 
Sails  of  the  sunset,  red  over  endless  waters, 

For  the  furthest  Orient  filled ! 
Sails  of  the  starlight,  passing  we  know  not 
whither. 
Silent,  lighted,  and  lone! 

53 


54  LYRICS    AND    DRAMAS 

Sails  of  the  seaman  accursed,  and  cruising  for 
ever 
Hoist  by  a  spectral  crew ! 
Sails  set  afire  by  the  lightning,  resounding  to 
tempest, 
That  drum  and  thunder  and  sing! 
Sails  that  unruffled  repose  on  a  bosom  of  azure, 

Glassed  by  a  placid  flood  I 
Alas !  must  ye  go  as  a  dream,  and  depart  as  a 
vision, 
Sails  of  the  olden  sea? 


THE  AEROPLANE 

Leave  us  the  air !  enough  the  jar 
Of  snorting  engine,  grinding  car, 
The  very  heavens  ye  now  would  mar; 
Leave  us  the  air ! 

The  air  where  dreamy  birds  do  sing, 
Under  Aurora  reddening, 
And  float  on  such  a  bhssful  wing. 
Leave  us  the  air! 

Air  doth  the  brow  of  age  renew 
Darkly  redeeming  us  with  dew, 
And  lifting  to  a  boundless  blue. 
Leave  us  the  air! 

The  ancient  silence  hath  but  stirred 
To  solemn  thunder  and  sweet  bird  ; 
There  must  the  aeroplane  be  heard? 
Leave  us  the  air! 

55 


S6  L  Y  R  I  C  S     A  N  D     D  R  A  M  A  S 

Air  that  is  bosom  of  our  pain, 
That  breathes  on  the  besieged  brain, 
And  murmurs  mercy  of  the  rain; 
Leave  us  the  air! 

Hither  and  thither  are  we  tossed. 
Speed  have  we  gained,  but  at  the  cost 
Of  faded  cahn  and  firmness  lost; 
Leave  us  the  air! 

Whate'er  the  silly  crowd  enjoys, 
Our  Progress  is  but  stench  and  noise. 
We  scream  and  shout  and  grasp  but  toys. 
Leave  us  the  air! 

The  earth  is  blackened  from  our  eyes. 
And   filled  with  dismal  hoots  and  cries, 
Spare  to  profane  the  holier  skies; 
Leave  us  the  air ! 


MUSIC  AND  THE  WOMAN  SOUL 


All  London  in  dim  hurry  streams 
Beside  my  door;  then  why, 
Cushioned  in  comfortable  ease, 
Is  mine  this  apathy  ? 


II 


And  flower  and  plant  upon  me  pall; 
Palls  too  the  written  page ; 
The  soundless  and  the  sumptuous  life, 
The  splendour  of  the  cage. 


Ill 


Death  may  some  brilliant  lightning  flash, 
Some  waking  thunder  roll ; 
Till  then  I  waste  in  cloudless  calm, 
And  starve  through  all  my  soul. 

57 


S8  LYRICS    AND    DRAMAS 

IV 

Only  by  music  am  I  freed, 
In  melody  find  wings ; 
No  written  word  of  poetry 
The  mighty  Spaces  brings. 


V 


Then  Sirius  far  behind  me  lies, 
The  Sun  is  long  outsoared; 
The  Universe  is  but  a  sound. 
Creation  but  a  chord ! 


VI 

Here  can  I  find  my  only  flight, 
Tread  where  Beethoven  trod ; 
So  am  I  raised,  so  am  I  rapt. 
And  lose  myself  in  God! 


THE  SUBMARINE 
Suggested  by  Admiral  Wilson's  report 


She  slideth  through  the  green  sea-night, 
Certain  and  cruel  without  light; 
In  ocean  glooms  her  deaths  are  done, 
She  craves  no  comfort  of  the  Sun. 

II 

She  striketh  low,  she  striketh  sure. 

No  armour  shall  her  thrust  endure; 

The    Iron-clad    quails    tlirough    every    tower, 

Subsiding  in  elaborate  power. 

Ill 

No  mailed  fortress  then  shall  save 
That  metal  mountain  of  the  wave. 
No  mounded  castle  of  the  deck, 
No  yawning  guns  that  yearn  to  speak. 

59 


6o  LYRICS    AND    DRAMAS 

IV 

Once  in  the  clear  and  cruder  days 
A  man  might  see  the  kmge  that  slays; 
The  point  he  strove  to  baflle  well, 
Missed,  but  not  all  in  blindness  fell. 

V 

But  no  man  knovveth  where  She  steals, 
If  far  away  or  at  our  keels ; 
Sudden  She  strikes  without  a  sound, 
And  leaves  a  mute  but  mortal  wound. 

VI 

What  clamour  of  old  ocean-war, 
What  thunder  belched  at  Trafalgar, 
Matches  in  terror  the  unseen 
Stab  of  the  silent  Submarine? 

VII 

So,  late  in  time  has  come  to  be 
This  man-built  menace  of  the  sea; 
God  gave  no  monster  to  the  main 
To  make  the  works  of  man  so  vain. 


"AYE,  BUT  TO  DIE!" 

When   I   would   fain  be    freed   of  this  dull 

breath, 
And  tempt  the  dark  uncertainty  of  death, 
Then  Shakespeare's  warning  verse  appals  the 

mind ; 
Regions  of  ice  I  fear  and  viewless  wind; 
And  yet  that  we  shall  cease  forever  trust, 
And  this  sad  consciousness  be  blown  in  dust. 
But  even  though  personality  persist, 
And  we  endure  behind  this  veiling  mist ; 
Give  me  Prometheus'  crag,  the  undying  thirst 
And  unreached  fruits  of  Tantalus  accurst! 
Give  me  the  fierce  and  purgatorial  flame 
That  eats  into  the  soul  and  purges  blame, 
And  scorches  with  a  realized  shame; 
The  cleansing  torment,  purifying  slow. 
Till  I  ascend  the  wiser  for  the  woe. 
Than   here    to    drudge    and    ache,    but    never 

grow ! 
If  pain  shall  save,  who  then  shall  fear  to  die, 

6i 


62  LYRICS    AND    DRAMAS 

And  exaltation  fetch  from  agony? 
O  better  all  the  terrors  priests  have  told, 
That  in  dark  durance  may  the  spirit  hold, 
Exile  for  aeons  from  the  smile  of  God, 
The  unavenging,  yet  the  chastening  rod, 
Than  this  ignoble  war  of  "how"  and  "whence," 
The  unglorions  fight  for  necessary  pence; 
In  death  at  least  I  plunge  in  grander  strife. 
Than  sordid  ills,  wherewith  this  world  is  rife, 
Life's  meanness  makes  the  misery  of  life. 


THE  FIREMAN 

(An  impression  of  the  street) 

His  foe  is  fire,  fire,  fire! 
Hark  his  hoarse  dispersing  cry, 
From  his  path  asunder  fly! 
Speed!  or  men  and  women  die, 
For  his  foe  is  fire,  fire! 

His  foe  is  fire,  fire,  fire! 

He  is  armed  and  helmed  in  brass, 

Let   his    thundering   chargers    pass; 

Be  the  iron  Strand  as  grass, 

For  their  foe  is  fire,  fire! 

His  foe  is  fire,  fire,  fire! 
On  he  rushes  as  in  gold, 
Under  him  a  chariot  rolled, 
As  in  Roman  triumph  old, 
But  his  foe  is  fire,  fire ! 

63 


64  L  y  R  I  C  S    A  N  D    D  R  A  M  A  S 


His  foe  is  fire,  fire,  fire! 
Red  the  vault  above  him  reels, 
Now  the  blistering  stairway  peels, 
But  the  battle-bliss  he  feels. 
For  his  foe  is  fire,  fire! 

His  foe  is  fire,  fire,  fire! 
Up  the  ladder  flies  he  light, 
Disappears  in  dreadful  night. 
Now  re-starts  upon  the  sight. 
Sudden  out  of  fire,  fire! 

His  foe  is  fire,  fire,  fire! 
And  no  word  the  hero  saith, 
Only  on  his  arm  hath  breath 
Something  between  life  and  death, 
Snatched  from  fire,  fire,  fire! 

His  foe  is  fire,  fire,  fire! 
Bring  him  to  the  victor's  car, 
Richer  is  his  spoil  of  war, 
Than  from  Roman  battle  far, 
Who  has  triumphed  over  fire. 


EMILY  BRONTE 

Daughter  of  thunder  and  the  northern  moor. 
Singer  of  heath  and  grim  and  cruel  souls. 
Yet  of  thy  Love  remembered  deep  in  snow. 
Who  taught  thee  in  that  bleakness  to  believe, 
Who  told  thee  in  that  dimness  so  to  trust 
Holding  so  fast  a  God  for  all  the  creeds? 
Loneliness  only  could  such  lightning  make, 
So  stern,  so  tender!  only  barren  hills 
Could  wring  the  woman  riches  out  of  thee. 
They  live  not  long  of  thy  pure  fire  composed, 
Earth  asks  but  mud  of  those  who  will  endure. 
Some  star  was  too  impatient  for  thy  soul. 
In  silence  summoning  through  English  dew. 
Did  Shelley  linger  downward  to  grey  hairs, 
Was  Keats  permitted  that  rich  brain  to  glean. 
Or  all  his  glowing  morning  to  fulfil? 
Or  Byron  like  thee  in  his  later  fire. 
When  the  true  lightning  of  his  soul  was  bared 
Long  smouldering  till  the  Missolonghi  torch? 

65 


66  LYRICS    ANDDRAMAS 

Soul-solitary!  taught  by  lonely  flame; 
No  need  for  thee  to  mix  in  civic  crowds, 
Knowledge  was  thrilled  to  thee  upon  the  heath, 
And  wisdom  came  to  thee  from  northern  stars. 
Yet  loving  thy  stern  verse,  I  most  am  held 
By  Heathcliffe  following  dreamily  the  dead. 


THE  BLACK  PERIL 


Beware  the  black  blood  with  the  white! 
The  skull  of  brass,  the  hands  that  tear ! 
The  lecherous  ape,  not  human  quite. 
The  tiger  not  outgrown  his  lair! 

II 

Beware  the  strong  and  gleaming  fangs, 
Fit  for  the  forest  where  he  ranged! 
The  cruel  simian  arm  that  hangs ! 
He  goes  upright,  but  is  not  changed. 


Ill 


Worse  than  the  wolf  descending  gaunt, 

Or  lion  whom  starvation  brings. 

The  village  of  the  plain  to  haunt; 

For  in  your  midst  he  prowls  and  springs. 

67 


68  LYRICS    AND    DRAMAS 

IV 

And  him  no  shout  upraised  can  fright, 
Nor  Hghted  bon-fire  scare  away; 
Restless  he  crouches  day  and  night, 
Leaps!  and  a  woman  is  his  prey. 


THE  MISER  MOTHER 

"Mother^  what  dost  thou  nigh  my  bed  ? 
Five  years  are  gone  since  thou  wert  dead; 
All  round  us  is  the  hush  of  night, 
And  the  moon  is  bright ! 

"The  moon  shines  through  thee,  mother  old! 
What  is  it  that  thou  wouldst  unfold? 
In  life  thou  ne'er  didst  love  me  well; 
What  wouldst  thou  tell? 

"When  I  was  but  a  lonely  mite, 
How  I  would  shudder  from  thy  sight ! 
And  backward  held  my  sobs  for  fear 
That  thou  shouldst  hear." 

"My  son,  forget  the  blows  I  gave! 
For  we  are  weak  within  the  grave; 
Never  a  blow  this  arm  could  deal, 
Which  thou  couldst  feel! 

69 


70  LYRICS    AND    DRAMAS 

"Go!  take  from  out  the  garden  wall, 
The  stone  that  nearest  of  them  all 
Lies  to  the  crumbling  corner  green 
Where  the  moss  hath  been. 

"There  shalt  thou  feel  a  shining  heap 
Of  golden  pieces  hidden  deep; 
Up  now !  and  to  the  garden  haste ! 
The  night  doth  waste. 

"Take  up  the  golden  pieces  all 
Then  dig,  and  let  a  few  e'en  fall 
Upon  my  coffin,  of  the  best, 
That  I  may  rest. 

"I  ne'er  did  love  thee  from  thy  birth 
But  I  will  bless  thee  under  earth, 
If  this  my  wish  thou  wilt  fulfil. 
And  I  be  still." 

The  mother  faded  without  sound ; 
Her  son  the  golden  pieces  found ; 
Dug  deep ;  and  what  she  so  did  crave 
Dropped  in  her  grave. 


THE    BLOW 

(The  true  story  of  an  ancient  house) 

I  STRUCK  my  dear  son ;  I,  his  sire, 
An  idiot  made  him  in  my  ire; 
I  hear  him  mumble  in  the  sun, 
And  see  him  Hstless  walk  and  run. 


If  I  by  penance  might  atone, 
And  kneeling  wear  away  the  stone ! 
If  I  might  hope  by  prayer  or  fast 
To  absolve  me  of  my  sin  at  last! 


Can  any  fast  or  penance  heal 
The  stare  thy  father's  hand  did  deal? 
What  withering  vigil  can  restore 
Thy  happy  laughter  as  of  yore? 

71 


72  LYRICS    ANDDRA  MAS 

Thy  mother  of  thy  daftness  died : 
She  could  not  bear  thee  at  her  side; 
Thy  vacant  eyes  became  her  doom, 
Thy  jargon  laid  her  in  the  tomb. 


See  at  my  side  he  loves  to  stand, 
He  puts  into  my  own  his  hand; 
And   at   my   knees   his    favourite   place; 
God!  how  he  smiles  into  my  face! 


A    PARTING 

Lone  in  the  ghostly  garden, 

Lone  in  the  moonless  night, 
I  wait  and  watch  thy  window 

For  thy  coming  taper  light. 

Motionless   all  the  garden, 

Though  the  heavy  rose  is  sweet, 

Each  bird  hath  sunk  to  silence, 
The  dew  is  at  my  feet. 

At  last  thy  light  in  the  lattice, 
With  narrow  stream  on  the  lawn! 

Ah,  look  thou  forth  but  a  moment. 
And  flood  me  with  thy  dawn! 

Darkened  again  thy  lattice! 

Hence!   through  the   world  my  way; 
How  all  the  garden  shivered. 

Cold  in  the  sigh  of  day! 

73 


74  LYRICS    AND    DRAMAS 

No  more,  nevermore  shall  I  see  thee, 
Clear  candle  of  this  soul: 

For  the  breaking  ocean  calls  me 
With  loud,  estranging  roll. 


A  WOMAN 

She  in  a  high  walled  garden  walks, 

Drenching  each  flower; 
Or  bends  above  her  favourite  beds 
After  each  shower. 

There  seems  no  trouble  in  that  brow, 

Those  quiet  eyes; 
The  buds  her  silent  children  are. 

Their  roof  the  skies. 

Was  ever  kiss  upon  those  lips. 

Voice  at  her  ear? 
Lived  she  as  now  for  ever  cold 

Without  a  tear? 

Ah!  in  the  locked  room  in  the  night, 

May  then  be  seen, 
Signs  upon  her,  as  on  some  shore. 

Where  the  sea  hath  been. 
75 


A  BALLAD 

I 

"Give  me  to  drink,"  the  sick  man  cried, 
And  straiirht  his  wife  was  at  his  side: 
He  drank  and  of  the  draught  he  died. 


II 


That  draught  was  brewed  from  drops  of  hell ; 
The  mortal  drink  she  mixed  so  well. 
He  back  upon  the  pillow  fell. 


Ill 

Adown  the  stairway  slid  she  white, 
She  felt  a  hot  kiss  without  sight, 
And  all  the  dark  was  falsely  bright. 

76 


MARGARET 

On  that  high  hill  above  the  wold, 
When  the  day  has  died  in  gold, 
Margaret ! 


I  have  sung  you  mighty  verse, 
Half  of  blessing,  half  of  curse, 
Margaret ! 


Yet  though  night  hath  brought  a  breeze, 
You  are  still  as  frozen  seas, 
Margaret ! 


And  those  lovely  eyes  are  tired, 
Orbs  of  brown  I  have  not  fired, 
Margaret ! 


78  LYRICS    AND    DRAMAS 

Still  you  listen  wearily, 
Striving  to  be  kind  to  me, 
Margaret ! 


LILY  AND  ROSE 

Roses  bring  we  to  our  love, 

But  lilies  to  the  dead, 
White  flowers  to  the  breathless  give, 

To  the  breathing,  red. 


Yet  soon  the  breathing  shall  be  cold 
And  earn  the  purer  flower, 

The  lily  hath  immortal  lease, 
The  rose  an  hour. 


79 


MABEL 

She  slumbers  by  the  moorland  stream 
That  floods  the  brown  stone  fast; 

Into  that  sleep  no  dream  shall  come, 
No  murmur  of  the  past. 

Utterly  cold  she's  grown  to  me, 

She  careth  nevermore; 
Though  I  be  plunged  in  deepest  sea, 

Or  cast  on  furthest  shore. 

So  quick  she  was  to  note  each  tone, 

At  every  mood  to  start; 
Now  death  hath  turned  her  into  stone 

And  taken  away  her  heart. 


80 


y 


DREAMS  AND  THE  DEAD 

Dreams  can  bring  me  back  the  dead ; 

I  with  thee  again  may  tread, 

As  of  old  with  thee  I  walk, 

Still  in  the  olden  garden  talk. 

Though  so  rich,  the  moments  fly, 

Pass  they  in  futility. 

Dull  our  thought,  our  speech  is  slow, 

Over  the  earthy  themes  we  go ; 

So  natural  doth  the  moment  seem. 

And  we  as  idle  as  the  dream. 

No  news  hast  thou  of  heaven  or  hell, 

I  nothing  from  the  earth  to  tell. 

Sudd<:n  I  wake!  Thou  art  away! 

And  ah  what  worlds  had  I  to  say! 


8i 


TREES 

O  THE  trees  feel  before  the  soul 

The  coming  thunder-roll; 

So  long  have  they  been  still ;  to-night 

They  shivered,  but  with  no  delight. 

All  night  I  watched  them  shiver, 

As  for  ever  and  for  ever, 

And  when  the  morning  faintly  shone, 

You  whom  I  had  kissed  wert  gone. 


82 


THE   SONG   OF    "RANJI" 

From  a  throne  to  the  simple  sward, 

Sudden  to  pass! 
From  the  aching  Asian  plains 

To  the  English  grass! 

From  the  glitter  fierce  to  the  cool, 

Over  the  billow; 
From  a  crown  to  a  cap  pale-blue. 

From  cedar  to  willow! 

From  the  stillness  deep  to  the  roar, 
To  the  green  from  the  waste, 

From  the  howdah  to  hooting  car, 
From  the  hush  to  the  haste! 

From  salaam  to  the  friendly  cheer, 
From  the  prince  to  the  guest. 

From  the  shadowless  to  the  shade, 
From  the  East  to  the  West! 
83 


"CRICKET    I    SING" 
(After  Walt  Whitman) 

Game  of  all  games,  than  Olympian,  Roman, 

serener ; 
Cricket  I  sing! 

Here  is  no  blood  barbarian  dyeing  the  sward ; 
No  thumbs  turned  upward  or  down. 
Only  verdure  and  pipe-clay  and  silence  perfect; 
The  sacred  silence  of  the  game! 
Hark !  I  evolve  under  ribs  of  parody  soul  of 

an  Epic, 
Who  knows? 

Scintillant,  modern,  bizarre! 
Allons ! 
The  uncertainty,   first   of   rain   in  the  night, 

meaning  so  much,  victory  or  defeat; 
The  slow  rolling  of  the  ground,  the  roller  how 

heavy ! 
Five  persons  silent,  bearing  the  shafts  in  front. 

84 


"C  R  I  C  K  E  T     I     S  I  N  g"  ^S 

One  behind,  solitary  assisting,  (he  too  playing 
his  part), 

Or  in  your  ear,  camerado,  does  he  but  feign 
assistance, 

And  in  reality  shoves  not  at  all? 

The  spinning  of  the  coins  by  the  captains 
before  the  pavilion, 

So  much  depending! 

The  ringing  of  the  bell! 

What  bell  indeed  comparable,  ship-bell,  fire- 
bell,  or  bell  even  of  tabernacle  non-con- 
forming ? 

The  arena  of  set  faces ! 

(The  perfect  white,  now  that  I  see  clearer,  of 
the  popping-crease), 

The  working-man,  slunk  from  his  sullen  job 
away  to  the  verdurous ; 

The  faultless,  glossy,  top-hatted  he  of  the 
West; 

Business  eschewed  for  the  day  anyhow. 

The  fieldsmen  emerging,  some  from  one  pos- 
tern, some  from  the  other; 

Yet  wherefore,  insula  democratic? 

Is  it  so  easy  thus  to  sever  the  sheep  from  the 
goats  ? 


86 


LYRICS    AND    DRAMAS 


Silent  I  nudge  thee,  grim  shag  inhaler,  beside 
me  sitting, 

Dost  thou  not  scent  in  this  custom  something 
feudal,  passe? 

To  me  at  least  something  mouldering,  ivied, 
baronial. 

I  know  not  who  thou  art,  camerado,  but  from 
thy  chin  I  guess  thee 

A  hater  of  razors  and  of  kings, 

I  surmise  by  that  stubble  democratic. 

Revenons ! 

The  stern  tacit  approach  of  the  first  two  bats- 
men 

They  take  their  guard,  but  glance  fearfully 
around. 

Suspicious  of  ambush,  laid  either  side. 

The  sphinx-like  umpire,  surpliced,  motionless! 

(Tho'  for  a  matter  of  that  a  sudden  leg-slash 
might  render  his  children  fatherless.) 

His  decision  final  anyhow;  no  appeal! 

The  score-board,  infallible,  the  figures  disap- 
pearing, returning,  silent. 

Numerals  as  of  Judginent-day ! 

The  panic  of  the  young  out-fieldsman,  on  test 
here, 


"C  R  I  C  K  E  T     I     S  I  N  g"  ^7 

His  first  catch  coming  to  him,  the  sun  in  his 

eyes, 
No  thumbs   turned  upward,   or  down;   only 

faces. 
Intent,  judicial! 
If  he  should  fumble  it? 
Come  now,  memories,  ghosts  of  Lord's,  or 

the  Oval ! 
"W.   G."   in  his  prime   I  see,  black-bearded, 

ungainly,  autocratic. 
With  huge,  thoughtful,  bound-reaching  stroke; 
Resourceful,  a  cumbrous  ground-coverer, 
A  luring,  slow,  aerial  trundler. 
Incredulous  of  umpires! 

Spofforth,   greyhoundish,   lean,   indefatigable, 
Furious,  the  problem  before  him; 
The  wrist-sleeve  masking  the  uncertain  orb. 
Ranji,  alert.  Oriental,  perfidious! 
With  swift,  sudden,  unguessed  glances, 
The  silk  shirt  flapping  to  and  fro  on  the  dusk 

body. 
Quivering,  mystical  shirt! 
Bonnor,  ambrosial,  flaxen,  gigantic,  fleet! 
Shrewsbury,  unexciting,  each  stroke  a  pattern, 

quietly  perfect,  a  teacher. 


^^  LYRICS    AND    DRAMAS 

Blackham,    prince    behind    stumps,    gathering 

without  fear 
Demon  dehveries; 
Oft  wounded  ever  returning! 
All  these  and  others  many  I  see  as  I  lounge 

and  lean  on  the  rails ; 
All    these    and    others    many    I    see,    and    I 

remember. 


THE    ENGLISH    SABBATH 

Smith   in  the   week  was   dull   enough,   God 

knows, 
But  doubly  dull  upon  the  Sabbath  grows. 
An  iron  gong  invites  that  soul  of  tin, 
A  soul  too  grey  for  splendour  of  a  sin. 
Sure  of  a  heaven,  he  hears  the  tinkling  bell, 
But  has  not  yet  ascended  to  a  Hell. 
What  weight  is  this  that  heavier  makes  the 

air? 
Hush !  'Tis  the  load  of  Smith's  ascended  prayer 
Recoiling  back  on  him  from  Sabbath  cloud. 
Returning  on  him  though  his  knee  be  bowed. 
Each  week-day  Smith  respectably  can  thieve 
But  on  the  Sabbath  would  his  God  deceive. 
He  kneels  to  pray,  but   ere  his   prayer   has 

ceased 
Rises  in  fear  his  breeches  may  be  creased; 
Later  his  wife  from  mundane  matters  free, 
Purring  her  Sabbath  scandal  pours  the  tea. 
O  for  some  winnowing  blast  to  swirl  away 
The  mouldering  mummery  of   our   Sabbath- 
day! 

89 


LOVE    AND    THE    POET 

You  wonder  why  within  your  arms 

Laura,  I  seem  to  shght  your  charms; 

And  yet  when  seas  our  spirit  part, 

I  waft  you  music  of  the  heart. 
I  am  a  poet,  born  to  stray, 
And  so  my  thoughts  are  far  away. 

When  Byron  on  the  ItaHan  breast 
His  burning  brow  in  passion  prest, 
Dear  Countess,  while  he  gazed  on  you, 
His  soul  to  Mary  Chaworth  flew. 
He  was  a  poet,  born  to  stray, 
And  so  his  thoughts  were  far  away. 

What  woman  will  this  satisfy 

In  England  or  in  Italy? 

It  flatters  not  a  lady's  ear 

That  only  distance  makes  her  dear. 
But  every  poet,  born  to  stray. 
Still  feeds  upon  the  far-away. 
90 


THE  MODERN  LOVER 

No  more,  Miranda,  shed  a  tear 
That  I  but  flirt,  am  insincere ! 
Scan  me  no  more  with  earnest  eyes, 
Or  seek  a  meaning  in  my  sighs. 
To  you  I  pay  a  compHment 
When  nothing  that  I  say  is  meant. 
I  flatter,  but  I  will  not  kneel, 
Ever  I  feign,  but  never  feel. 
My  wooing  is  the  gayest  lie, 
A  shimmering,  flitting  phantasy, 
Aerial  as  the  butterfly; 
And  take  a  care  that  no  one  mentions 
A  hint  to  me  of  my  "intentions." 
I'd  not  insult  you,  or  intrude 
Upon  you  with  "an  impulse  crude." 
Love's  but  the  flurry  of  a  flunkey. 
The  antic  of  the  ancestral  monkey. 
The  utterance  of  the  soul's  upheaval 
Is  really  nothing  but  primeval; 

91 


92  LYRICS    AND    DRAMAS 

The  solemn,  serious  "declaration" 
Degrades  our  polished  generation. 
Remember  when  your  tongue  is  tartest, 
That  I,  at  least,  am  still  an  "artist." 


MIRANDA'S    EYES 

What  colour  are  Miranda's  eyes? 

Will  no  one  tell  me,  pray? 
Now  fleeting-blue  as  April  skies, 

Sudden  a  tender  grey! 
What  is  the  colour  of  her  eyes? 


What  colour  are  Miranda's  eyes? 

Are  they  of  dawn  or  eve? 
A  moment  laughter  in  them  lies; 

The  next  they  seem  to  grieve. 
Tell  me  the  colour  of  her  eyes! 


What  colour  are  my  mistress'  eyes? 

Painter  lay  down  thy  brush! 
How  shalt  thou  seize  what  ever  flies, 

Is  brief,  as  is  a  blush, 
The  colour  of  Miranda's  eyes? 

93 


94  LYRICS    AND    DRAMAS 

What  is  the  colour  of  her  eyes, 
Those  pools  of  mystery  deep? 

Whatever  lives,  whatever  dies, 
They  mirror  in  a  sleep. 

Such  is  the  colour  of  her  eyes. 

What  colour  are  Miranda's  eyes? 
For  ah!  when  I  her  hc^rt 
Would  prove,  I  win  but  wild  replies. 

Wild  as  those  eyes  that  dart; 
Her  heart  is  changing  as  her  eyes. 


NERO'S    MOTHER 

A   DRAMA   IN    ONE   ACT 

This  one-act  drama  portrays  a  scene,  which  but 
for  the  exigencies  of  time  would  have  been  in- 
cluded in  the  play  of  "Nero,"  so  notably  produced 
by  Sir  Herbert  Tree  at  His  Majesty's  Theatre. 

The  situation  here  is  so  intense,  that  in  the 
author's  opinion  it  can  well  supply  material  for  a 
separate  one-act  play. 

PREFATORY   REMARK 

The  Emperor  Nero  having  determined  to 
rid  himself  of  his  mother  Agrippina,  whose 
influe.ije  thwarted  him  in  all  his  designs,  in- 
vited her  to  supper  at  Baiae  and  after  many 
pretended  caresses  escorted  her  to  a  ship 
which  had  been  especially  constructed  to  col- 
lapse in  mid-sea.  A  tempestuous  night  was 
necessary  to  cover  his  design,  but  the  Gods 

95 


96  I.  YRICSANDDRAMAS 

gave  a  brilliant  sky  and  sea  without  a  breath. 
The  ship  collapsed  as  was  intended,  but 
Agrippina  escaped  by  swimmino^  and  reached 
her  own  villa  on  the  Lucrine  lake.  Here  she 
reflects  on  what  had  happened  and  awaits  her 
doom  at  the  hands  of  her  son. 

CHARACTERS 

Agrippina    (the    mother   of    the   Emperor   Nero). 
AcERRONiA   (her  friend  and  companion). 
Myrrha  (a  maid  attendant  on  Agrippina). 
Anicetus  (a  captain  of  the  fleet  and  an  instrument 

of  Nero). 
Sabinus   (a  representative  of  the  towns-people  on 

the  coast). 

[The  scene  is  a  chamber  in  the  villa  of  Agrippina 
on  the  shore  of  the  Lucrine  lake.  A  large  min- 
dotv  on  the  right  at  back  commands  a  view  of 
the  shore  and  near  it  is  a  table  with  a  lamp 
burning.  Lower  down  stage,  on  the  right  is  a 
door  communicating  by  steps  zvith  the  shore.  On 
the  left  is  another  door  heavily  curtained,  lead- 
ing to  the  chamber  of  Agrippina. 

The  time  is  night  and  as  the  curtain  rises  loud 
shouts  and  cries  can  be  heard  from  zvithont  con- 
gratulating Agrippina  on  her  escape  from  ship- 


N  E  R  O'S     M  O  T  H  E  R  97 

lircck  the  night  before.  There  can  be  seen  the 
reflected  light  of  many  torches  hither  and 
thither  zvavcd  along  the  beach  in  token  of  the 
popular  joy.  Myrrha  is  discovered  gaaing  from 
the  window  on  the  assembled  crowd  laughing 
gleefully,  and  clapping  her  hands. 
As  the  curtain  rises  Acerronia  comes  from  the  door 
on  the  left  from  the  presence  of  Agrippina.l 

Myrrha. 

[Turning  excitedly  to  Acerronia 
wJio  enters.] 

Will  she  not  come,   the  Emperor's  mother? 
Hark! 

\_A  loud  shout  arises  and  cries  of 
"Agrippina"  are  heard  from  be- 
low.] 

Again,  and  yet  again  they  cry  her  name, 
And  some  are  dancing,  many  waving  torches, 
And  all  aloud  for  Agrippina  call ! 
Look  forth! 

[Acerronia  goes  and  leans  from  the 
zvindow,  and  a  still  louder  shout 
is  sent  up.] 


98  LYRICS    AND    DRAMAS 

They'll  not  depart ;  they  will  not  sleep, 
Till  Agrippina  shows  herself  to  them 
Safe  from  the  wrecked  ship. 


ACERRONIA. 

To  and  fro  within 
She  walks  and  murmurs  to  herself;  then  halts 
All  suddenly;  but  moving  still  her  lips 
In  silence.     There's  a  trouble  at  the  soul, 
Which  makes  her  deaf  to  all  this  shouted  joy. 


Myrrha. 

Why!  But  last  night  and  she  escaped  ship- 
wreck. 

She  should  be  rendering  thanks  upon  her 
knees. 

ACERRONIA. 

I  tell  you  there's  some  fierce  tumult  within ; 
She  puts  some  dreadful  question  to  herself. 


N  E  R  O'S     M  0  T  H  E  R  99 

[A  knock  is  heard,  then  a  still  louder 
shout  and  in  the  reflected  glare  of 
torches  Sabinus  from  the  door  on 
the  right  bursts  into  the  room  with 
others  following.^ 

Sabinus. 

We  would  congratulate  the  Emperor's  mother. 
May  we  not  speak  with  her?     Will  she  not 


see  us? 


ACERRONIA. 

[Going  to  the  curtained  door.] 
I'll  tell  her  that  you  come  to  speak  with  her. 

lExit.} 

Sabinus. 

[To  Myrrh  A.] 
A  moment  to  declare  the  public  joy 
And  thanks  of  all  this  coast  that  she  is  safe, 
Delivered  from  the  peril  of  the  deep. 


100  LYRICS    AND    DRAMAS 

[Enter  AcERRONiA,  who  pulls  aside 
the  heavy  curtain  as  Agrippina 
enters.  Agrippina  advances  and 
Sabinus,  throwing  himself  on  his 
knees,  kisses  her  hand.  He  then 
rises.] 

Sabinus. 

We  could  not  choose,  O  Lady  Agrippina, 
But  seek  you  out  to  show  you  our  dehght. 

[A  loud  shout  is  again  heard.] 
Hark  to  this  multitude  that  throng  the  shore, 
All  hoarse  with  salutations  who  await 
The  sight  of  you  from  yonder  window  thrown. 
And  not  alone  have  we  a  cause  for  thanks 
In  that  a  sudden  ship-wreck  was  escaped. 
But  also  that  to  Nero,  to  your  son, 
You  now  are  reconciled,  so  through  the  world 
Lasting  tranquillity  is  granted  us. 

Agrippina. 

I  thank  you  all  for  true  words  from  the  heart, 
And  for  your  simple  joy  that  I  am  safe, 


N  E  R  O'S     MOTHER  lOI 

And  to  my  son  last  night  was  reconciled. 
How  good  is  human  speech  that  we  can  trust, 
And  even  though  we  be  royal  can  believe! 
I'll  show  myself  a  moment. 

[^Slie  goes  to  the  window,  Myrrh  a 
holding  up  a  golden  lamp  which 
lights  tip  AcRirpiNA's  face  and  the 
acclamations  are  redoubled.  As 
she  turns  from  the  window,  Sabi- 
Nus  and  Jiis  followers  make  an 
obeisance  and  retire.] 

Agrippina, 
[Slowly.] 

Seen  from  the  window,  how  did  yester-night 
Appear,  disturbed  or  calm? 

Myrrha. 

O  calm  my  Lady. 
The  bay  was  like  a  floor  that  we  could  dance 

on 
And  all  the  coast  as  clear  as  in  daylight. 


102  lyrics   and  dramas 

Agrippina. 

Then  does  it  not  seem  strange,  nay  wonderful 
That  any  ship  should  sink  in  such  a  sea, 
A  brilhant  heaven  and  a  breathless  deep  ? 

ACERRONIA. 

What  is  so  treacherous  as  a  glassy  sea, 
What  is  so  full  of  moods  and  sudden  frets? 

« 

Agrippina. 

[Eagerly.] 
Ah,  that  is  true! 

ACERRONIA. 

Some  under-current  might 

Agrippina. 


Yes,  yes!  who  knows?    Who  can  foretell  or 
guard  ? 


N  E  R  O  S     M  O  T  H  E  R  I03 

How  my  heart  clutches  what  my  brain  rejects! 

0  to  you  two  I  must  unfold  my  soul! 
'Twas  the  uncertain  sea ;  no  human  guile. 

If  it  were  planned!    The  Gods  at  least  would 

lend 
No  colour  to  it. 

Myrrha. 
Planned ! 

Agrippina. 

Planned  by  my  son. 

ACERRONIA. 

Why!     It  is  said  he  lay  upon  your  breast 
Showering  his  kisses  on  you. 

Agrippina. 

Yes,  he  laid 
His  head  down  on  my  bosom  as  of  old. 
He  seemed  to  me  but  as  a  child  again, 

1  stroked  his  hair,  while  he  w^ould  kiss  my 

hand, 


104  LYRICS    AND    DRAMAS 

Or  smile  up  in  riiy  face  as  a  babe  does. 
You  cannot  guess  how  eagerly  I  long 
To  think  that  which  I  wish ;  and  to  believe 
That  which  I  fear  to  trust ;  but  I  have  been 
So  schooled  my  brain  is  mistress  of  my  heart. 
O  but  his  touch  had  ancient  tenderness! 
His  eyes  filled  with  the  tears  of  long  ago. 
Or  were  those  fingers  but  the  sheathed  claws 
And  talons  of  the  tiger-cat;  those  tears 
A  treacherous  rheum  Vailed  up  at  will  ?  No,  no ! 

Myrrha. 
Mistress! 

Agrippina. 

\_Sinking  in  a  cliair.^ 

O  if  I  might  have  lived  secure! 
Only  a  woman  busied  with  her  flowers, 
And  turning  unto  music  at  twilight ; 
That  passes  from  a  garden  to  a  grave ; 
While  one  saith  to  another,  "Hast  thou  heard. 
She  died   last  night?"      O    if   I   might   have 

dwelt 
Safe  with  the  dim  untempted  Average! 
O  had  I  been  a  wanderer  on  the  road, 


NEROSMOTIIER  105 

That  dreams  on  hay  beneath  a  summer  moon, 
All  night  a  river  running  at  his  ear ! 
Yet  could  I  quench  this  fire  with  any  flower? 
What  fall  of  dew  could  slake  this  thirsting 

soul? 
O  vain,  vain,  vain! 

[Suddenly  rising.] 

Girls,  may  you  never  bring 
A  man-child  to  the  sun;  and  live  to  fear 
His  kisses  and  grow  careful  of  his  clasp! 

ACERRONIA. 

Imperial  Lady,  hark  not  back  to  that ! 

Agrippina. 

[Pacing  to  and  fro.] 

Would  I  had  been  born  barren  in  the  light ! 
Would  I  had  lingered  fruitless  to  the  ground, 
Drooping  with  all  my  wishes  to  the  earth. 
And  so  escaped  the  i^angs  precursing  bliss 
To  others!     Why  must  I  in  pain  bring  forth 
That  which  shall  tear  me,  why  am  I  twice 
rent? 


io6 


LYRICS    AND    D  R  A  ?.I  A  S 


Wherefore  am  I  delivered  of  a  monster 

That  naturally  on  its  mother  turns, 

And  sets  its  teeth  there  where  it  drew  its  life? 

What  but  a  lair  for  adders  have  I  been, 

A  chest  of  poison  or  a  dagger  sheath? 

What  but 

IS  he  pauses  suddenly,  listening.} 

Myrrha. 

My  Lady,  what  so  suddenly 
Arrests  you? 


Agrippina. 
Listen ! 

Acerronia. 

I  can  hear  no  sound. 

Myrrha. 

Acerronia. 
What  cry  hath  marbled  you  so  still? 


Nor  I. 


N  E  R  O'S     MOTHER  107 


Agrippina. 

No  cry,  but — silence !  Listen !  Why  has  ceased 
So  suddenly  the  clamour  from  the  shore? 
There  is  no  single  voice  that  rises  now. 
Listen!     At  last  comes  clear  upon  the  air 
The  regular  murmur  of  ocean  on  the  stones, 
Till  now  unheard ;  hushed  is  the  voice  of  man, 
Only  the  sea  hath  anything  to  say. 

Myrrha. 

[Going  to  the  zvindow.] 

And  every  torch  that  but  this  moment  burned, 
Is  vanished  everywhere  and  all  is  dark. 

[Agrippina    goes    and   slowly    seats 
herself  in  the  chair.] 

Agrippina. 

Come  from  the  window,  touch  the  harp  for 
me! 

What  does  this  mean?  What  bodes  this  sud- 
den lull? 


I08  LYRICS    AND    DRAMAS 

[Myrriia  hcg'uis  to  touch  the  harp- 
strings,  when  suddenly  a  loud 
knock  comes  on  the  door  beneath. 
There  is  a  pause.] 

Myrrha. 
I  cannot  hold  the  harp. 

Acerronia. 

I  grow  afraid. 

Agrippina. 

Children,  be  still !    What  is  it  that  you  fear? 
Perhaps  Sabinus  is  returned. 

Acerronia. 

That  knock 
Had  more  imperious  sound. 

Agrippina. 

Myrrha,  play  on. 


N  E  R  O'S     M  O  T  H  E  R  I09 

ACERRONIA. 

Lady,  forgive  me,  but  I  fear  to  stay. 

[She  hurries  out  through  the  curtain 
doorway.  A  second  and  louder 
knock  is  heard.] 

Agrippina. 

[To  Myrrha_,  who  starts  up  in  alarm.] 

O  child  be  still! 
Perhaps  my  son  has  sent  a  messenger 
For  news  of  me. 

Myrrha. 

Why  do  they  open  not  ? 
They  all  are  fled  below.     I  cannot  stay 
Longer.     I  seem  to  suffocate  with  dread. 
[She,  too,  is  going  out.] 

Agrippina. 
You,  too? 


"o  lyrics  and  dramas 

Myrriia. 

O  Lady,  could  I  stay,  I  would, 

But 

[She  follows  AcERRONiA  out.] 

Agrippina. 

O  there  is  no  escape!  Who  can  escape 
From  Rome?  She  sentinels  the  utmost  sea 
And  sundered  island ;  none  can  fly  from  Rome. 

[A  sound  conies  as  of  a  door  broken 
down.  There  is  the  heavy  tramp 
of  armed  men  on  the  stair.  Then 
the  door  on  tJie  right  is  dashed 
open  and  Anicetus  enters. 
Agrippina,  tvho  has  re-seated  her- 
self, does  not  rise;  the  lamp  illu- 
mining  her  face.  She  does  not 
deign  to  speak.  At  last  the  silence 
is  broken  by  Anicetus.] 

Anicetus. 

Imperial  Lady,  the  Emperor  has  sent  us 
To  ask  if  you  are  yet  recovered  quite 


NERO's     MOTHER  ^ 

The   shock   of  ship-wreck?    He   can   find   no 

sleep, 
Pacing  in  deep  anxiety  the  shore 
And  he  will  have  no  peace  till  we  return. 


Agrippina. 
Peace ! 

Anicetus. 

We  would  hear  from  you  by  spoken 
word 
What  to  report  to  him. 

Agrippina. 

[Quietly.] 

Then  tell  my  son 
That  I  am — well ;  a  little  shaken  yet, 
But  in  a  long  sleep  shall  recover  quite. 
My  arm  you  see  is  bruised,  but  even  now 
Is  healing  without  pain.     Tell  him  from  me 
His  mother  would  not  he  should  vex  himself 
With  apprehensions ;  I  shall  soon  be  well. 


"2  lyrics  and  dramas 

Anicetus. 
I  will  inform  him  so. 

Agrippina, 

And  say  this,  too, 
That  I  would  like  to  go  far,  far  away 
And  live  out  what  remains  to  me  of  life 
In  deep  seclusion,  with  no  rankling  thought 
But  memory;  I  could  join  his  wife  j)erhaps 
Octavia,  in  Pandateria; 
And  find  her  a  companion  in  exile; 
Tell  him  my  head  is  weary  of  the  state. 
And  aches  too  much  with  this  Imperial  care. 
And  now,  no  doubt,  it  is  as  well  that  he 
Go  on  alone;  I  set  him  where  he  is, 
Now  leave  him  to  himself;  I  feel  that  I 
Am  but  a  bar  to  his  Imperial  dream. 
But  yet  I  hope  that  my  son's  reign  may  far 
Outsplendour  all  precedent  Emperors, 
And  Avith  his  triumphs  Rome  may  roar  and 

rock. 
My  place  will  be  to  watch  him  afar  off, 


N  E  R  O'S     M  0  T  H  E  R  "3 

And  catch  great  news  of  him  with  throbbing 

heart, 
Lovinf?  him  from  the  Hmits  of  the  world. 


Anicetus. 
I'll  so  report  you. 

Agrippina. 

[Gradually   losing   her   self-control.] 
So  I  understand 
The  Emperor  is  much  perturbed  in  mind. 
Can  he  not  find  relief  in  harp-playing, 
Or  in  some  verse  upon  my  near  escape  ? 

[She  rises,  speaking  with  passion.] 
O  let  this  solemn  folly  have  an  end! 
You  are  sent  here  to  kill  me,  that  I  know. 

[Anicetus  starts.] 
Why  else  this  military  silence  kept? 
And  I  am  caught  here  without  hope  of  flight, 
To  die  as  the  rat  dies.     Give  me  a  sword 
And  Nero,  set  us  one  against  the  other, 


114  LYRICS    AND    DRAMAS 

And  let  me  fight  for  life  to  kill  this  whelp. 

[A  murmur. '\ 

But  if  I  must  die  here,  then  tell  him  this, 

That  dead  I'll  vex  him  worse  than  e'er  in  life, 

Gathering  an  added  swiftness  from  the  tomb, 

And  unretarded  by  the  body  strike. 

Did  Clytemnaestra  need  to  cry  aloud 

Upon  the  slumbering  Furies  ?    They  shall  start 

Upon  my  whisper,  hissing  in  his  ear 

For  all  his  deep  draughts  of  Falernian  wine. 

The  night  may  pass,  but  the  red  cloud  of  dawn 

Shall  bring  the  colour  of  his  mother's  blood. 

You,  Anicetus,  are  well  chosen  here, 

You  have  not  yet  forgot  the  public  jest 

I  put  upon  you  before  all  the  court, 

I  see  them  laugh  still  at  your  scarlet  face. 

Not  all  the  blood  you  spill  upon  this  floor 

Shall  ever  wipe  that  ringing  laughter  out. 


Anicetus. 

Lady,  I  have  forgotten. 

IHalf  unsheathing  his  sword.^ 


NERO's    MOTHER  "5 

Agrippina. 

No,  ah,  no! 
Else    would    you    not    so    fumble    with    your 

sword ; 
Insult,  and  blows,  and  ruin  are  forgot. 
Ridicule  never;  'tis  the  eternal  thrust. 
This  vengeance  that  you  take  with  armed  men 
Is  somewhat  heavy-handed.  Anicetus, 
Lacking  in  lightness  and  in  humour;  you 
Have  no  reply  but  dullness  of  a  blow, 
But  I  have  stabbed  your  littleness  more  deep 
Than  ever  you  my  greatness  could  assail. 

[She  snatches  up  the  lamp  and  dashes 
it  on  the  floor,  plunging  the  stage 
in  darkness.] 
'Tis  dark  and  I  am  ready  for  the  grave. 

[As  one  of  the  soldiers  is  stealing  up 
behind  her  she  stops  him.] 
Not  in  the  back !     In  front  this  wound  should 

be! 
Nero,  strike  here,  here  strike  where  thou  wast 
born! 

[The  curtain  rapidly  falls  as  they  rush 
upon  her.] 


THE   ADVERSARY 

A  DRAMA  IN  ONE  ACT  OF  FOUR  SCENES 

The  idea  of  this  brief  drama  is  based  on 
that  of  a  play  by  Calderon.  Beyond  this,  it  is 
entirely  original. 

CHARACTERS 

Fernando  Del  Castellano  (a  middle-aged,  impov- 
erished descendant  of  an  ancient  house). 
Marguerita     (his    youthful    wife,    daughter    of    a 

wealthy  merchant). 
A  Physician. 
An   Old  Family   Servant. 
The  Figure. 

Scene  I. 

[The  chamber  of  an  ancient  castle  hi  Toledo. 
This  cJianibcr  is  evidently  stripped  and 
dismantled.  Pedestals  where  statues  have 
stood,  outlines  upon   the  zvalls  where  old 

ii6 


THE    ADVERSARY  1^7 

pictures  have  hung,  certain  figures  in  ar- 
mour of  Fernando's  ancestors  alone  re- 
main. Fernando  is  sitting  with  his  wife 
by  a  dying  fire.  The  time  is  deep  mid- 
night.'] 

Fernando. 

0  Marguerita,  this  dismantled  room, 

This  old  ancestral  chamber  stripped  and  bare, 

A  leafless  forest  ruined  by  the  blast, 

Strikes   to  my  heart.      Pictures   and   statues, 

blades, 
Encrusted  long  ago  with  infidel  blood, 
And  holy  relics  and  memorials  dear 
Bequeathed  through  ages,  sold  or  carried  off! 
The  glory  of  our  house  is  past  away; 
And,  dearest,  most  for  thee  my  heart  is  sore. 

1  took  thee  young  from  wealth  and  ease,  and 

now 
Though  still  but  on  the  verge  of  womanhood, 
Here  have  I  pent  thee  in  a  house  despoiled, 

\_She  draws  closer  to  the  scanty  fire 
as  he  rises  excitedly  and  paces  to 
and  fro.] 


ii8 


LYRICS     AND    DRAMAS 


Yet  am  I  answerable,  have  I  incurred 

This  ruin?  ever  thriftily  I  lived, 

Drank  not,  nor  gambled,  yet  each  day,  each 

hour 
Some  new  misfortune  bows  me  to  the  earth. 
Some  enemy  remorselessly  pursues  me. 


Marguerita. 

An  enemy!  hark  back  into  the  past; 

Canst  thou  remember  any  thou  hast  wronged 

Who  takes,  though  late,  this  vengeance  ?    Had 

thy  father 
Some  foe  ancestral  and  still  unappeased? 


Fernando. 


I  know  of  none  that  ever  I  have  wronged. 


Marguerita. 
Unconsciously,  perhaps  ? 


the  adversary  "9 

Fernandq. 

Nor  did  my  father 
Warn  me  of  any  such  descended  wrath. 
This  only  have  I  found,  that  field  on  field, 
And  all  this  long  inheritance  hath  past 
Into  the  hands  of  one  whose  name  is  hid; 
Who  lunges  at  my  breast  behind  a  mask. 
Vainly  I  seek  this  foe  for  evermore. 

[His  wife  rises,  shivering,  as  the  first 
grey  of  the  dawn  appears.] 

Marguerita, 

Dawn  peereth,  I  must  go  in  to  the  child. 

[She  kisses  Fernando  and  passes 
through  the  decayed  arras  into  an 
inner  room.] 

Fernando. 

[Turning     to     the     armed    ancestral 
statues.] 
Ye  armed  ancestral  figures  of  my  house, 
Ye  statesmen  dim,  captains  of  long  ago, 
Declare  to  me  doth  any  ancient  wrong, 


120  L  Y  R  I  C  S    A  N  D    D  R  A  M  A  S 

Committed  in  far  years,  at  last  on  me 
Evolve  this  dreadful  consequence?    Ah,  thou, 
Thou  old  Pizzaro  of  infamous  memory, 
Dark  tales  and  legends  grim  are  told  of  thee, 
Thy  rapes,  thy  rapines,  and  thy  blasphemies. 
Didst  thou  engender  in  a  wilder  day 
A  curse,  which  innocent  I  expiate? 
Speak,  one  of  you  now  glimmering  in  dawn. 

[Dazvn   begins    to    touch    the   armed 
figures.] 
All  silent!     Yet  I  cry  again,  invoke 
The  very  dead  for  answer.     Who  is  he. 
That  hath  despoiled  me  thus  and  stripped  me 

bare 
And  made  me  naked  before  all  men? 

The  Figure. 

[Appearing      masked      and     muffled 
against  the  stained  windozv.] 
I.     I. 

Fernando. 

[/«  slow  Jiorror.] 

Thou?     Who  art  thou?     Art  thou  a  breath- 
ing thing? 


THEADVERSARY  121 

Or  but  the  apparition  of  a  brain 
O'ercharged?      Thy    face    is    hid.      Who    art 
thou?     Speak! 

\^As  Fernando  slowly  approaches  the 
figure,  it  vanishes  as  the  curtain 
falls.] 

Scene  II. 

[The  same  chamber.  Midnight.  As  the  cur- 
tain rises  the  clock  strikes  twelve.  Fer- 
nando is  seen  standing  in  the  very  place 
where  the  figure  has  disappeared  in 
Scene  one.] 

Fernando. 

He  then,  that  figure,  muflPied  close  and  masked, 
Visible  suddenly  in  grey  of  dawn, 
Accused  by  his  own  mouth  of  all  this  doom, 
From  him  I  wrung  no  answer.     As  I  stole 
To'ard  him  he  vanished,  silent  as  he  came. 

[He  looks  into  the  inner  room.] 
The  child  sleeps;  but  his  mother!     Midnight 
struck ! 


122  LYRICS     AND    DRAMAS 

'Tis  not  her  wont  to  be  so  late  away. 

[Enter  an  old  servant  of  the  house  in 
shabby  livery,  bearing  a  letter.] 


Servant. 

Master,  my  mistress  gave  this  in  my  hand 
Enjoining  I  should  not  deliver  it 
Until  the  clock  struck  twelve. 

[Fernando  seises  the  letter,  breaks 
the  seal  and  reads.] 


Fernando. 

[Reading.] 
Husband,  I  have  left  thee  and  my  home  and 
I  shall  not  return.  But  of  this  be  at  least  as- 
sured, that  my  honour  is  unstained.  I  have 
not  fled  to  the  arms  of  any  other.  Forgive  me 
and  teach  the  child  also  to  forgive.  ]\Iar- 
guerita. 

[Fernando   motions   the  servant   to 
retire.  ] 


the  adversary  ^23 

Fernando. 

Was  not  this  desolation  of  my  hearth 
Heavy  enough,  that  she  must  now  forsake  me, 
No    reason    given?      Doubtless    the   gnawing 

care, 
Anxiety  for  evermore  renewed, 
And  bareness  when  in  plenty  she  had  lived, 
Impelled  her  to  inflict  this  final  blow. 

\_Siiddenly  lie  starts  and,  softly  open- 
ing the  arras,  gazes  into  the  room 
within.] 
But  he,  our  child,  how  calmly  slumbering. 
So  that  but  for  the  colour  in  his  cheek 
That   sleep   might   well   appear   the   sleep   of 

death. 
Him  even  she  leaves;  a  creature  of  the  waste. 
And  scenting  death,  will  not  desert  her  young. 
What   influence   then,    what   terror    so   could 

urge  her, 
Since  not  into  another's  arms  she  fled  ? 
Then  what  compulsion  irresistible? 

The   Figure. 
\_Again  visible  as  before.} 
I. 


124  l  y  r  i  c  s  a  n  d  d  r  a  m  a  s 

Fernando. 

Thou  again,  and  masked  and  muffled  still ! 
And  with  thy  own  lips  dost  again  pronounce 
Thyself  the  cause  of  headlong  misery. 
Thy  name!     Thou  canst  not  now   withhold 

thy  name! 
[A  pause.] 
How  have  I  wronged  thee  ? — Yet  what  wrong 

so  deep, 
That  could  this  desolation  justify? 

[A  pause.] 

No  answer  still  ?    Art  thou  of  flesh  and  blood  ? 
Or  com'st  thou  from  the  grave,  even  in  death 
Bearing  me  malice  from  the  underworld? 
Art  thou  perchance  a  spirit  deep  incensed, 
Still  nursing  hot  a  far  off  injury, 
That  thus  thou  dost  pursue  me  hour  by  hour  ? 
This    vengeance   seemeth   more   than   mortal 

work. 
Whate'er  ensues  I'll  put  thee  to  the  proof. 

[He  rushes  towards  the  figure  as 
though  to  grasp  it  hut  again  it 
vanishes  as  the  curtain  falls.] 


T  II  E    A  D  V  E  R  S  A  R  Y  ^^S 

Scene  III. 

[Again  the  dismantled  chamber.  Deep  night. 
Fernando  in  an  attitude  of  suspense  is 
standing  at  that  arras  door,  which  now 
opens,  and  a  white-haired  physician  enters 
slow  and  silent.] 

Fernando. 

[With  outstretched  arms.] 
The  child?     Still  is  there  hope?    Answer  me. 
[The  physician  makes  no  answer  but 
bows  his  head  in  silence.] 


Dead? 


[The  physician  approaches  him  and 
mutely  endeavours  to  console  him, 
leading  him  to  a  chair,  into  which 
Fernando  helplessly  sinks.] 

[The  physician  seeing  his  attempts  at 
consolation  are  futile  is  about  to 
retire,  when  Fernando  stops  him 
with  a  gesture.] 


126  lyrics   and   dramas 

Fernando. 

Doctor,  these  cumulated  miseries, 

Of  which  this  is  the  last  and  worst,  I  fear, 

Have  shaken  my  reason.    It  has  seemed  to  me 

That  after  each  new  fallen  calamity, 

Here  in  this  very  room,  by  yonder  window, 

A  figure  has  appeared  shrouded  and  masked. 

Which,  when  I  cried  to  heaven  to  show  me 

cause 
Of  these  extreme  inflictions,  answered  "i." 
Yet  could  I  draw  from  it  no  plainer  word ; 
And    when   I    have   approached,    it    vanished 

straight. 
Tell  me,  for  you  maintain  an  equal  pulse, 
Is  this  a  self-created  apparition. 
Born  of  a  fevered  and  tormented  mind? 
Or  does  it  come  for  vengeance  and  alive? 
Watch  with  me  now  and  re-assure  my  brain. 


Physician. 

Small  wonder  that  a  mind  so  deeply  torn 
Should  call  up  phantoms  in  mere  ecstasy ! 


THEADVERSARY  I27 

I  will  dispatch  thee,  ere  the  morning  break, 
A  kind  and  drowsy  syrup  to  bring  sleep. 

[After  once  again  laying  his  hand  on 

Fernando's   shoulder  he   silently 

retires.] 


Fernando. 

Almighty  God  that  sittest  in  the  heavens, 
Thou  Who  dost  punish,  yet  with  justice,  I 
Demand  of  Thee,  as  Thou  wilt  judge  us  all 
On  that  last  day  when  graves  give  up  their 

dead. 
Why  I  am  thus  afflicted  and  pursued; 
First  in  the  desolation  of  my  hearth. 
Then  in  the  causeless  fleeing  of  my  wife, 
Now  in  the  dying  of  my  only  child; 
What  curse  is  on  me  ? 


The  Figure. 

lAgain  appearing.] 
I. 


128 


LYRICS    AND    DRAMAS 


Fernando. 

•   Again  thoii  comest, 
Now  for  a  third  time !  'tis  not  possible 
Thou  art  a  phantom ;  clearly  I  behold  thee ; 
I  know  thee  for  mine  enemy,  thou  hast  said  it, 
Three  times  pronouncing  thee  the   cause  of 

woe. 
I  will  pursue  thee  over  land  and  sea. 
No  forest  is  so  deep  that  it  shall  hide  thee, 
There  is  no  wall  so  strong,  no  lock  so  fast, 
That  it  shall  shelter  thee.    As  thou  hast  me, 
So  will  I  thee  pursue  unto  the  end. 
I  am  a  lonely  man,  bereaved  and  stripped; 
To  this  bare  task  I  now  devote  myself. 
Here  I  take  oath  in  this  dismantled  room, 
By  yonder  still  warm  body  of  my  child. 
That  I  will  hunt  thee  sleepless  through  the 

world, 
Till  I  have  called  thee  to  a  dread  account. 

[He  rushes  towards  the  figure  as 
though  to  assail  it,  but  again  it 
vanishes  as  the  curtain  falls.] 


THEADVERSARY  ^^9 

Scene  IV. 

[A  narrozv  street  ending  in  a  cul  de  sac.  Lurid 
sunset.  The  figure  is  seen  striding  slowly 
towards  the  cul  de  sac.  Fernando  sud- 
denly appears  pursuing,  breathless,  haggard 
and  unkempt.] 

Fernando. 

At  last  I  have  thee.    Hence  is  no  escape ! 
Here  must  thou  turn  at  last,  at  last  reveal  thee. 
Remove  thy  vizor  or  I  tear  it  from  thee ! 

[Drawing  his  sword.] 

Here,  if  thou  art  a  thing  of  flesh  and  blood. 
Thou  canst  not  still  refuse  me  satisfaction, 
On  guard,  sir!    I'll  not  stab  thee  in  the  back. 

The  Figure. 

[Slowly  turning  and  removing  his 
mask  discloses  the  very  features  of 
Fernando  himself.] 

Fernando,  art  thou  satisfied? 


130  l  y  r  i  c  s  a  n  d  d  r  a  m  a  s 

Fernando. 

[With  a  loud  cry.^ 

Myself! 

[He  falls  dead  at  the  feet  of  the 
figure,  zvhich  stands  over  him,  be- 
ginning to  fade  as  the  curtain 
falls.] 


THE  KING 

A  TRAGEDY  IN  A  CONTINUOUS  SERIES  OF  SCENES 

NOTE 

This  play  is  constructed  after  the  Greek  and 
not  the  Shakespearian  model,  and  is  divided 
into  a  series  of  scenes,  not  acts.  The  subject 
is  one  of  intense  tragedy,  but  the  author  hopes 
that  he  has  treated  a  story,  inevitably  grim 
and  reminiscent  of  the  Athenian  drama,  with 
something  of  Greek  reticence  and  dignity. 

CHARACTERS 

Philip  (King  of  Spain). 
Don  Carlos  (his  son  and  heir). 
GoNZAGA  (Prime  Minister). 
Fernando  (an  old  servant). 
Christina  (a  lady  of  the  Court). 

Nobles,  Prelates,  Courtiers,  Couriers,  etc. 

[The  Scene  is  the  ancient  capital  of  Madrid.'] 

131 


^3^  LYRICS    AND    DRAMAS 


Scene  I. 
Audience  Chamber.        The  Court  Assembled. 

The  King. 

Princes     and     prelates,     nobles,     courtiers, 

friends ! 
Now  thirty  years  have  I  unfaltering 
Held  in  these  hands  the  reins  of  policy, 
And  here  have  pacified  and  there  repressed. 
Pursuing  peace  with  unsurrendered  power. 
And  much  of  this  felicity  I  owe 
To  sage  suggestion  of  Gonzaga  here. 

[A     murmur     of     admiration     runs 
through  the  court.'] 
But,  friends,  I  grow  aweary  of  my  task, 
And  would  relinquish  onerous  royalty. 
And  this  high  seat  I  lightly  abdicate 
Since  in  my  vacant  room  I  set  my  son 

\^An  applauding  shout,  which  visibly 
pleases  the  King.] 
Carlos.    His  youth  unstained,  his  grave  record 
When  youthful  blood  hath  license,  recommends 
him. 


T  H  E     K  I  N  G  ^33 

But  that  he  might  not  climb  these  stairs  un- 
tried, 
But  straight  from  battle  to  a  throne  proceed, 
Against  Granada  I  have  now  despatched  him. 
To  expel  the  encroaching  Moor ;  each  moment 

now 
I  look  for  him ;  but,  happier  augury, 
I  publicly  proclaim  that  he  shall  wed 
The  princess  child  of  royal  Portugal. 
This  marriage  builds  a  barrier  doubly  strong. 
Against  assault  a  rampart  twice  secure. 

[Here  Christina,  a  lady  of  the  court, 
swoons,  and  is  borne  oiitzvard.] 
So  with  a  twofold  gladness  I  expect 
A  son  that  warrior  comes  and  bridegroom,  too. 
[A  courier  rushes  in  breathless  and 
kneels  before  the  King.] 

Courier 

Out  of  Granada,  tidings  hear,  O  King! 
The  city  is  retaken,  the  Moor  is  fled ; 
And  brightest  over  all  in  battle  burned 
The  Prince,  who  by  a  sudden  iflank  assault 
Drove  headlong  the  surprised  Moroccan  arms ; 


134  LYRICS    AND    DRAMAS 

And  still  they  lied,  and  still  the  Prince  pur- 
sued. 
Already  hard  upon  me  is  our  host, 

[The  sound  of  arms  and  bugles  of  the 
returning  army  is  heard,  and  with 
loud  triumphant  shouts  the  court 
disperses  to  zvelcome  the  victors, 
leaving  only  the  King  and  Gon- 

ZAGA.] 


The  King 

Gonzaga,  let  me  not  in  flood  of  joy 

Omit  a  duty.     She  who  swooned  but  now, 

Dona  Christina,  I  have  reared  till  now. 

But  ere  I  abdicate  I  will  to  leave 

A  spacious  and  a  broad  estate  to  her. 

To  be  a  home,  or  dowry  should  she  wed. 

Her  mother  I  knew  well  in  other  days. 

I  cannot  leave  her  to  a  youth's  caprice, 

Who    might    o'erlook    her    need,    no    cause 

assigned. 
Let  this  not  slip ! 


T  H  E     K  I  N  G  135 

GONZAGA 

O  King,  be  thou  assured. 

[A  burst  of  Diiisic  outside,  and  Don 
Carlos  rushes  in,  blood-spattered, 
and  is  caught  in  his  father's  arms, 
who  holds  him  close  in  silence.^ 

The  King 

My  dear,  dear  son ! — God,  for  this  perfect  mo- 
ment 
Let  us  not  suffer  afterward!     Again, 
Again  I  kiss  thee  through  the  spattered  blood. 
Thou  hast  no  scar? 

Carlos 
Scathless  have  I  come  off. 

The  King 

And  now  I  gird  on  thee  this  dazzhng  toy ; 

\^Hc  girds  a  jewelled  dagger  on  the 
Prince.  ] 


136  LYRICS    AND    DRAMAS 

A  toy,  yet  capable  of  mortal  use. 

[The  Prince  drazvs  the  blade  and  looks 
smilingly  at  it.] 

Carlos 
A  pretty  thing  to  wear,  if  not  to  use. 

The  King 

But  now  to  give  felicity  a  crown, 
My  son,  a  bride  awaits  thee ! 

[The  Prince  starts  away  from  his 
father,  ivho,  hozvever,  continues 
unconscionsly.'] 

Ah,  this  news 
Strikes  sudden  on  you !   Listen,  then ! 

[Pie  takes  the  Prince  by  the  arm, 
walking  to  and  fro  excitedly.] 

She  is 
A  royal  daughter  out  of  Portugal. 
This  marriage  seals  two  neighbour  kingdoms 

close. 
And   builds   a   bristling    frontier   'gainst   the 
Moor. 


T  H  E     K  I  N  G  ^27 

So  you  as  soldier  and  as  lover  reign! 
What  is  your  answer? 

[The    Prince    remains    silent,    with 
bowed  head.  The  King  stands  gaz- 
ing at  him  astonished.    A  pause.'] 
Carlos,  answer  me! 
[^Still  the  Prince  is  silent.    Again  a 
pause.] 
Boy,  look  up  in  my  face  and  speak,  at  least! 
And  let  me  have  a  human  word  from  you ! 

Carlos 

[Raising  his  head] 

Father,  I  am  o'er-flurried  from  the  war, 
Give  me  a  little  pause! 

The  King 

A  pause?  But  why? 
Have  I  deserved  such  silence  from  my  son? 
Have  I  not  compassed  you  with  deeper  love 
Than  e'er  man  gave  to  woman?    Since  you 

lisped, 
Have  I  not  hoarded  every  whisper  up? 


138  LYRICS    AND    DRAMAS 

Have  I  not  cried  aloud  to  God  for  thee  ? 

riot  speech  from  you,  or  maddest  reason  given 

I  can  endure,  but  motionless  refusal, 

Silence  and  sullenness  I  will  not  bear. 

That  you  must  seek  and  choose  your  phrase  I 

loathe. 
When  have  I  given  you  cause  to  hide  your 

thought, 
Until  this  instant  so  transparent  clear! 

\_He  paces  to  and  fro  in  agitation,  then 
pauses  before  his  son.] 
Still  silent! 

Carlos 
Father,  give  me  till  to-night! 

The  King 

Child,    you   have   not    lived    long   enough   to 

know 
What  pain  you  deal  me  with  your  secretness. 

GONZAGA 

Prince,  you  will  pardon  me,  but  on  your  word 
Hangs  here  the  embassy  from  Portugal. 


T  H  E     K  I  N  G  ^39 

It  will  be  taken  at  that  fiery  court 
An  insult,  making  more  for  war  than  peace 
If  this  proposed  marriage  you  defer, 
And  no  cause  given. 


Carlos 

To-night  I'll  give  the  cause, 
Father,  to  you  alone — then  as  you  will. 


The  King 

How  suddenly  my  bliss  is  clouded  o'er. 

And  what  was   free  and  bright,   constrained 

and  dark. 
To-night  your  certain  answer  then! 

[Going.] 

To-night ! 

[Exeunt  King  and  Gonzaga.  The 
Prince  passes  his  hand  over  his 
brow  in  a  gesture  of  doubt  and 
terror.] 


MO  LYRICS     AND    DRAMAS 

Scene  II. 
Don  Carlos  and  Christina 

[The  scene  is  a  sequestered  arbour  in  an  ob- 
scure part  of  the  royal  garden.  Here  amid 
the  shrubs  and  fragrant  bushes  of  that 
teeming  southern  land  have  these  two  been 
accustomed  to  meet.  As  the  curtain  rises 
they  are  clasped  in  a  silent  embrace.] 

Christina  [drawing  slightly  apart  from  hint] 

Dear,  all  the  palace  rings  with  thee ;  thy  charge 
And  headlong,  wild,  improbable  assault, 
That  from  Granada  flung  the  Moor  surprised ; 
And  I  have  listened,  glowing  secretly. 
I  said  no  word,  but  gloried  to  myself. 
My  very  silence  was  more  proud  than  words. 
But  ah!  before  the  heroic  news  came  in, 
The  King,  thy  father,  'pointing  you  his  heir, 
Spoke  of  an  alien  marriage  politic, 
To  be  a  barrier  and  a  wall  to  Spain. 
Then,  ah,  forgive  my  weakness,  I  fell  back. 
Borne  to  the  air. 


T  H  E     K  I  N  G  141 

Carlos 

This  moment  I  have  left 
My  father  for  the  first  time  wroth  and  sad ; 
For  well  you  know  that  he  and  I  have  lived 
Transparent  as  two  friends,  no  shade  between 

us. 
He  broke  to  me  this  marriage  in  blind  joy : 
I  answered  not;  dear,  dear,  what  could  I  say? 
Last  he  appointed  I  must  ansvv^er  him 
To-night.     The  embassy  from  Portugal 
Expects  from  me  a  "Yes"  that  will  be  "No." 

Christina 

Carlos,  I  feei  that  I  should  go  from  you. 

[He  starts  and  clasps  her  more  closely 
to  him.] 
I  stand  between  you  and  the  public  weal. 
Beloved,  howsoe'er  these  lips  are  sweet, 
You  shall  not  set  my  kiss  before  a  throne. 
Prefer  a  lonely  woman  to  the  State. 

[He  starts  impatiently.'] 
No !  hear  me  to  the  end.  You  shall  fulfil 
This  marriage,  Love,  the  issue  is  too  vast; 


M2  LYRICS    AND    DRAMAS 

The  safety  of  this  ancient  throne,  and  rule 
Of  all  this  murmuring  nation.     But  the  heir 
That  shall  be  born 

[She  comes  close  to  him,  ivhispering 
ill  his  car.] 

our  child  already  lives. 


You  mean  ? 


Carlos 


Christina 


For  the  first  time  I  have  felt  it  stir 
Within  me;  then  I  swooned  amid  the  court. 

Carlos 

[In  wild  agitation] 

Then  doubly,  trebly,  am  I  now  resolved, 
Since  two  lives  hang  on  me,  and  now  not  one, 
That  you  shall  be  my  wife,  and  publicly 
Raised  to  the  dazzling  splendour  I  inherit. 
O  pale  the  anointing  oil,  and  dim  the  crown, 
If  thou  wert  not  beside  me  sitting;  or 


T  H  E     K  I  N  G  ^43 

I  will  forego  the  glory  and  the  war, 
The  applause,  and  battle  glistening  in  the  sun, 
And  we  will  quit  the  splendour  hand  in  hand, 
Walking  together  like  two  simple  folk, 
Who  love  and  cannot  see  the  earth  for  love. 

Christina 

No,  no!  I  must  renounce  the  very  life; 

The  gold  presented  cup  of  crimson  wine; 

And  I  will  be  to  you  as  are  the  dead, 

If  one  can  die,  and  yet  consume  in  flame. 

Ah,  but  renunciation  hath  a  fire. 

It  is  not  cold ;  God  knows  it  is  not  cold. 

What  battle  like  this  battle?     I  forsake 

Deliberately,  as  a  woman  can, — 

For  to  a  man  possession  is  the  sum, 

The  charm,  the  mystery  and  azure  light; 

So  strong  my  love  of  you;  I'll  pass  away; 

And  fear  not  that  our  babe  shall  ever  know 

Who  is  his  father ;  I  will  cherish  him 

By   the   slow   stream   and   grasses    far    from 

courts. 
Even  now  he  feels  out  blindly  toward  the  sun, 
Moving  in  me  as  in  a  world  obscure. 


144  LYRICS    AND    DRAMAS 

We  two  shall  be  most  happy  so  alone. 
If  thou,  for  we  are  mystically  knit, 
Shouldst  hear  a  pretty  babble  in  the  night. 
Out  of  strange  fields,  and  know  it  is  thy  son, 
Yet  still  be  strong;  I'll  see  thee  nevermore. 
[Suddenly  clasping  him  to  he?'.] 
No  more!  Ah!  but  thou'lt  come,  if  only  once! 
And  I  shall  run  and  hurl  me  on  thy  heart, 
And  as  out  of  great  darkness  see  a  light. 
But  no,  come  not  to  me!     I'll  not  forget; 
I  shall  go  down,  filled  with  thee,  to  the  grave. 
And  still  I  tell  thee,  put  my  arms  aside! 
A  boy  thou  wast,  now  seek  the  sterner  task ! 

Carlos 

A  boy !  I  am  no  boy ;  deep  in  my  blood, 

Too  deep,  a  moment  ever  to  be  moved, 

My  thought  of  you.     Is't  the  mere  touch  of 

lips. 
To  feel  my  circling  arm  about  your  waist. 
To  murmur  verses  under  fading  stars? 
Why  you  encircle  me  as  doth  the  air. 
And  nothing  breathes  or  moves  apart   from 

you. 


T  H  E     K  I  N  G  145 

The  universe  hath  got  from  you  a  soul ; 
Since  first  I  saw  you,  on  a  fated  night, 
From  the  dark  palace  casement  secretly, 
Leaning  with  loosened  hair  to  midnight  lilies, 
O  then  more  solemn  grew  the  woods,  the  hills 
More  strange,  the  mere  more  perilous  still. 
More  lone  the  bird,  returning  in  red  light, 
And  ah!   that  moon  new  brought  upon  the 

heaven ! 
Thou  art  more  sweet  than  souls  of  evening 

flowers 
In  a  dim  world,  and  ere  a  star  hath  come. 
Vain,  vain  the  throne !  for  thou  alone  art  real ! 
But  see,  the  sun  is  falling  down  in  gold. 
And  with  the  night  I  must  await  the  King. 
You'll  leave  me  not? 

\_Again  clasping  her  close.'] 


Christina 

I  will  not.     Yet  I  fear. — 

l^He  tears  himself  away  as  the  light 
rapidly  darkens.] 


146  LYRICS    AND    DRAMAS 

Scene  III. 

[The  King's  Private  Chamber.  The  Prince 
has  asked  to  see  his  father  alone  before 
giving  his  answer  to  the  ambassador  front 
Portugal,  in  regard  to  the  proposed  politi- 
cal marriage.      The  King  and  Carlos.] 


The  King 

Carlos,  since  first  I  gave  you  to  the  light, 
Never  a  cloud  has  come  between  us  two. 
This  is  the  first,  dispel  it  now  with  speed ! 

Carlos 
Father ! 

The  King 

I  have  not  been  o'er-strict  with  you, 
Never  asserted  a  mere  father's  right. 
But  we  have  been  as  friends;  never  before 
Have  you  refused  me  confidence ;  yet  now 
You  stand  in  guarded  silence  which  I  loathe, 


T  H  E     K  I  N  G  ^47 

As   though   you   must  be  careful   with  your 

words ; 
'Tis  this  I  hate,  not  any  folly  done, 
Whate'er  it  be;  but  that  you  will  not  speak 
To  me,  to  me,  at  least. 

Carlos 

But  I  will  speak; 
Forgive  me  whatsoe'er  I  shall  disclose; 
Father,  your  life  serene  to  all  is  known, 
Your  days  ascetic,  and,  my  mother  dead. 
Never  a  woman  has  had  pov/er  on  you. 

The  King 

O,  it  is  that  way,  is  it;    so  I  guessed; 

[Taking  Jiis  soil's  arm,  he  zvalks  to 
and  fro   with  him   in   a  friendly 
fashion.l 
Listen!    A  young  man's  trouble,  natural 
To  youth,  appears  to  stay  you  from  this  mar- 
riage. 
'Tis  difficult  to  take  a  solemn  view, 

[The  Prince  starts.] 


mS  lyrics  and  dramas 

Yes,  yes,  I  know!    I  only  ask  of  you 

That  you  are  free  with  me;  I  have  the  right. 

I'll  save  your  blushing  cheek  and  stammering 

tongue ; 
Hunting  perhaps  the  deer,  or  walking  lone 
Through  distant  villages,  you  saw  some  maid, 
Simple  and  sweet  amid  our  summer  fields. 
Her  beauty  breathing  fragrant  as  the  hay, 
And  lingering  with  her  in  a  twilight  lane. 
Followed  the  kiss  and  then  the  uttered  word, 
By  passion  sped,  repented  in  the  cold. 

Carlos 
No,  no,  you  understand  me  not  at  all. 

The  King 

Too  well  I  understand.     But  I  would  tell  you 
I  cannot  take  this  prank  of  blood  as  grave. 

[^Laughing  as  he  walks  with  the  Prince 
to  and  fro.] 
Twilight,  a  hedge  of  may,  and  coming  stars, 
A  face  amid  the  dimness !  All  is  said. 
Confess  now,  I  have  hit  you. 


T  H  E     K  I  N  G  149 

Carlos 

Father,   no ! 

The  King 

Still,  still  you  will  not  satisfy  me,  boy; 
Have  I  not  made  confession's  pathway  soft? 
And  yet  you  will  not  tread  it.    Silent  still! 
Now  I  will  humble  my  white  hair  to  you, 
And  tell  you,  I  myself,  young  then  as  you. 
Was  drawn  into  sweet  folly;  but  the  throne 
Demanded  me  and  all  this  people's  care. 
Then   I    dismissed    each   wanton,    wandering 

thought. 
And  set  my  teeth  and  rose  to  sterner  things. 
And  this  you  too  must  do ;  the  occasion  cries 
Aloud  for  sacrifice  of  crude  desires. 
It  asks  for  wisdom,  wildness  put  aside. 

Carlos 
Pity  me,  father! 

The  King 

Now  that  I  have  bent 
So  far,  as  to  unfold  to  my  own  son 


ISO  LYRICS    AND    DRAMAS 

A  far-off  folly,  is  it  much  I  ask 
That  you  should  open  to  me  all  your  soul? 
Come,  come!    Some  girl  you  cannot  bring  to 
court. 

Carlos 
No,  for  she  is  already  of  the  court ! 

The  King 

Ah,  this  is  better.     For  at  least  this  fault 
Was  with  some  lady  nobly  born? 

Carlos 

'Tis  so. 
She  hath  been  nobly  born,  and  in  her  face, 
Her  step,  the  certain  proof  of  lineage  high. 

The  King 
But  there  hath  been  no  secret  marriage,  speak ! 

Carlos 
As  yet  no  marriage ! 


T  H  E     K  I  N  G  151 

The  King 

Then  my  fears  are  o'er. 
All  this  is  easy,  and  what  seems  to  you 
So  tangled,  this  Gonzaga  can  unravel, 
For  he  is  ripe  and  still  and  unsurprised. 
You  say  it  is  some  lady  in  my  court. 
I'll  not  demand  her  name;  unless  you  give  it, 
And  be  assured,  for  my  own  sake  that  name 
Shall  never  be  divulged. 

Carlos 

Sir,  you  have  been 
So  open  and  so  much  a  trusted  friend 
All  those  past  years,  and  now  you  show  your- 
self 
So  easy  with  me  that  I'll  not  keep  back 
The  name  of  her  I  love. 

The  King 

You  love?    Ah  well! — 

Carlos 
Believe  me  that  I  do. 


152  lyrics  and  dramas 

The  King 
[Siniling.] 


I  once  thought  so. 


Well,  well? 


Carlos 

The  name  I  call  her  is  Christina. 
[The  King  starts  back,  grasping  the 
rail  of  the  throne;  there  is  a  breath- 
less pause.] 
Father,  I  know  not  of  her  parentage. 
Nor  who  her  mother  and  her  father  were ; 
It  is  sufficient  that  she  is  received 
Among  the  noble  ladies  of  your  court. 
So  much  for  that ;  but  that  her  blood  is  proud, 
You,  you   yourself — if  you   would   scan   her 

close, 
Could  not  deny;  even  royal  I  would  take  her, 
But  that  I  know  that  here  she  would  not  stand 
Attending,  came  she  true  from  royalty. 

The  King 

[With  difHculty  recovering  speech.] 
But  there  has  been  no  marriage. 


T  H  E     K  I  N  G  153 

Carlos 

No,  not  yet. 

The  King 

O  boy,  be  frank  with  me ;  I  am  very  old, 
If  only  then  that  I  am  old  refuse  not 
Answer ! 

Carlos 
I  will  not.     All  things  I  will  tell. 

The  King 

Then  how  far  has  this  matter  gone,  say,  say! 
You  think  me  too  impatient,  but  impatience 
Is  due  to  tremulous  age.     I  understand 
Almost  without  the  telling,  it  has  been 
The  kiss  forbidden  and  the  secret  speech 
And  ancient  poetry  beneath  the  moon, 
The  touch  of  hand — yes,  yes,  perhaps  the  clasp, 
When  the  last  star  is  fading  to  the  dawn. 
No  more? — You  understand,  I  press  you  not. 
But  there  hath  been  no  more? 


154  lyrics   and  dramas 

Carlos 

There  has  been  more. 

The  King 

But  you  two,  you  are  not  abandoned  yet 
To  the  act  of  fire? 

Carlos 
Even  to  the  act  of  fire. 

The  King 
God,  God! 

Carlos 

O,  Sir,  you  say  that  you  yourself 
Were  in  your  youth  not  guiltless,  why  of  me 
Ask  such  a  dread  account  ?  Father,  I  love  you, 
I  love  you,  ah  forgive  me. 

The  King 

I  love  you. 


T  H  E     K  I  N  G  ^55 

Carlos 

Then  here  I  kneel,  I  pray  you  to  forgive  me, 
I  will  not  loose  your  knees  till  you  relent. 

The  King 

[Kissing  the  bent  head  of  the  Prince] 
I  kiss  you  as  of  old. 

Carlos 

I  feel  your  tears 
Drop  on  my  hair. 

The  King 

Vain  tears  of  an  old  man. 
But  one  thing  else;  so  far  then  things  have 

gone 
Between  you,  but  no  issue  of  that  act? 

Carlos 

Alas!    I  have  just  learned  from  her  own  lips 
That  I  have  brought  new  life  into  this  world. 


is6  lyrics  and  dramas 

The  King 

O  Thou,  that  sittest  in  Thy  heaven,  relent! 
They  say  that  when  a  thing  is  done  'tis  done. 
It  is  a  He;  our  hghtest  act  takes  wings, 
And  is  made  free  of  space  for  evermore. 

Carlos 

But,  father,  though  a  child  is  born  to  me 
Out  of  this  passion  and  none  borne  to  you, 
Am  I  therefore  more  guilty  than  yourself? 
And  for  this  reason  now  am  I  resolved 
That  she  shall  be  my  wife,  and  publicly 
My    wife    proclaimed;    my    love    had    been 

enough. 
But  now  this  marriage  is  demanded  of  me. 

The  King 
This  marriage  cannot  be. 

Carlos 

[Angrily  approaching  his  father] 

What,  then,  shall  stay  me  ? 
Let  go  the  crown!   The  high,  imperial  seat! 


T  H  E    KING  ^57 

The  glory  and  the  marching  hosts  of  war. 
All  these  are  faint  beneath  a  woman's  smile. 
What  then  shall  stop  me,  or  who  shall  inter- 
vene ? 
Not  you  yourself,  you  even,  my  very  father. 
What  high  compulsion? 

The  King 

This:  I  am  her  father. 
[The  King  falls  backward  unconscious 
on  the  throne,  the  Prince  stagger- 
ing from  him  in  horror.^ 

Scene  IV. 

[Agaiti  the  secluded  arbour.  Christina,  sing- 
ing softly  to  herself,  starts  suddenly  to 
her  feet  as  she  is  aware  of  Carlos  stand- 
ing silently  gating  on  her;  but  not  as 
formerly  approaching  her.] 

Christina 

Ah !  [She  rushes  towards  him.  He  steps  back- 
ward, motioning  her  away.  She  stands 
transfixed.] 


158  LYRICS     AND     DRAMAS 

Love,  why  do  you  motion  me  away  ? 
And  say  no  word  at  all?   Why  may  I  not 
Fly  to  thee  to  be  gathered  on  thy  heart 
As  ever?    What  is  my  unconscious  fault? 
What  is  my  ignorant  trespass?    Or  has  thy 

father 
Between  us  fixed  a  gulf  as  deep  as  that 
Between  the  poor  man  and  the  rich  in  hell? 
Or  hast  thou  done  some  rash  thing  in  thy  rage  ? 
Carlos,   thou   hast   not   stained   thy  hands   in 

blood? 
Horrible!  in  his  blood?    Thou  dost  not  stir! 
And  still  and  dim  thou  growest  and  far-off, 
Looking  into  my  eyes  a  long  farewell. 
Love,  if  I  may  not  come  to  thee,  yet  tell  me, 
And  swiftly,  in  warm  words,  what  hath  be- 
fallen. 
What  sudden  thing  hath  come  between  us  two  ? 

Carlos 
No  sudden  thing,  but  one  far  back  in  time. 

Christina 
I  cannot  gather  this.    Is't  that  he  knows — 


He  knows. 


T  H  E     K  I  N  G  ^59 

Carlos 
Christina 


Even  then  'tis  not  in  thee 
To  shudder  away  from  me ;  rather  to  hold  me 
Closer,  and  with  strong  arms  to  shelter  me. 
If  we  have  sinned  beyond  a  father's  pity, 
Then  with  how  many  lovers  are  we  damned! 

Carlos 

[With  repressed  passion] 

Believe  me  that  I  have  not  shrunk  from  you 
From  ebbing  passion,  or  from  guilty  fear. 
At  heaven  I'd  spit  back  immortality. 
Might  I  one  moment  cross  this  yard  of  ground 
That  separates  us  now:  but  we  henceforth 
Must  keep  a  measured  distance  evermore. 

Christina 
Is  then  our  love  so  cursed? 


l6o  LYRICS     AND     DRAMAS 

Carlos 

[Wildly] 

Cursed?    Ah,  how  cursed! 
Lady,  no  love  was  ever  cursed  as  this. 
Our  kiss  was  potent  to  put  out  the  stars. 

Christina 
Lady! 

Carlos 

Come  thou  no  nearer,  but  declare 
Whose  child  thou  art. 


Christina 
My  mother  I  remember — 

Carlos 

Christina 
Died,  they  said,  ere  I  was  born. 


Thy  father? 


T  H  E     K  I  N  G  l6l 

Carlos 
But  if  he  lives? 

Christina 
He  lives?    My  father  lives? 

Carlos 
And  reigns! 

Christina 
I  reel  and  fall  into  thy  arms. 

Carlos 

I  must  not  clasp  her,  tho'  she  reel  and  fall ; 
I  dare  not  touch  her  body  even  in  death. 

Christina 

[Recovering  herself  in  slow  effort.] 
And  all  that  time  thy  kisses  were — how  sweet ! 

[A  pause.} 
Yet  all  unconsciously  we  came  to  this, 
And  in  all  innocency  have  we  loved. 


i63  l  y  r  i  c  s    a  n.  d    dramas 

Carlos 
Yet  unto  this  we  came. 

Christina 

O  Carlos,  now 
A  sterner  summons  asketh  more  of  us 
Than  just  to  part;  that  I  should  say  farewell, 
And  pass  out  of  thy  life  for  evermore. 
Now  not  to  thee  alone  I  say  adieu ; 
I  say  farewell  to  all  the  earth  at  once. 
I  stifle  to  be  gone;  I  ache  to  plunge 
In  the  pure  water  of  the  purging  grave. 
And  yet — and  yet — O,  I  must  cry  it  out 
To  all  the  gods  assembled  with  cold  eyes. 
I  love,  love,  love  thee,  past  all  bar  of  birth. 
Forgive  me,   Christ,   I  cannot  help  but  love 
him. 

Carlos 

Cease!    Or  I'll  leap  this  interval  of  earth, 
And  in  the  face  of  God  Himself  regain  thee. 
lA  silent  Hash  of  lightning  is  seen.] 


THE     KING 


163 


They  thrust  at  us  from  on  high;  there  is  no 

need: 
For  me  this  earthly  steel  suffices  well. 

[Touching  the  dagger  with  which  he 
is  girded.] 

Christina 
For  thee  and  me — together  must  we  die. 

Carlos 
Now  'tis  the  deep  of  night. 

Christina 

I  will  not  wait 
The  sun  with  curious  accusing  beam. 

Carlos 
This  love  was  of  the  night,  not  of  the  sun, 

Christina 

This  night  then,  and  with  speed!    Surely  we 
two 


164 


LYRICS     AND     DRAMAS 


Of  all  who  ever  loved  are  most  unhappy. 
Lovers  who  fell  in  death  in  olden  time 
Might  sob  the  life  out  in  each  other's  arms. 

Carlos 
Or  she  did  take  the  poison  from  his  lips. 

Christina 
A  venom  sweet — though  all  the  dark  to  come ! 

Carlos 
His  whisper  weakened,  yet  into  her  ear. 

Christina 
Dimmer  she  gazed,  but  yet  into  his  eyes. 

Carlos 
Over  them  came  old  odour  of  red  may. 

Christina 
Or  the  sweet  rustle  of  forbidden  lanes. 


T  H  E     K  I  N  G  ^^5 

Carlos 

But  we  with  failing  breath  apart  must  lie; 
Beautiful  earth  whereon  we  must  not  stay! 

Christina 
And  you,  forbidden  stars,  how  bright  to  leave ! 

Carlos 

On  all  the  glory  now  we  look  our  last; 
And  without  kiss, 

Christina 

or  pressure  of  the  hand. 
Albeit  we  sway  together  helplessly. 
Hopelessly  t'ward  each  other  swaying  still, 
Like  trees  across  a  river,  then  withdraw. 

Carlos 

Yet  without  cry,  but  with  a  Roman  heart 
We  seek  the  steel  that  giveth  honour  back. 


iw>         lyrics    and    dramas 

Christina 
[Gently] 

Perchance,  when  we  have  winged  a  separate 

flight, 
When    we    are    free    of    flesh,    from    blood 

released, 
God  will  not  place  his  bar  between  our  spirits, 
For  nowise  in  the  spirit  have  we  erred. 

Carlos 

[Drazving  the  dagger  given  him] 

This  blade  my  father  gave  me  in  his  joy ; 
See  how  the  jewelled  haft  sparkles  and  gleams. 
'Tis  fitting  we  should  use  it  in  our  sorrow. 
Now  to  some  darker  place,  that  we  may  die. 

Christina 
Carlos,  thoiij  thou  wilt  kill  me  first. 

Carlos 

I  cannot. 


T  H  E     K  I  N  G  ^^7 

Christina 

Give  me  the  steel !  I  feared  that  I  might  strike 
Uncertainly:  the  child  here  must  not  linger. 
[She,    taking    the    glittering    dagger, 
goes  slowly  out,  he  following  her.] 

Scene  V. 

[The  Throne-Room.  The  King  is  seen  stand- 
ing near  the  throne,  zvhich  he  does  not 
ascend,  Gonzaga  attending.] 

GONZAGA 

[After  a  pause.  He  speaks  somezvhat  lightly.] 

The  affair  no  doubt  is  angry  and  perplexed. 

More  deeply  difficult  than  any  I 

Have  disentangled.    But  no  problem  yet, 

No  situation  howsoe'er  confused, 

Hath  baffled  me ;  and  with  the  sagest  heads. 

The  wariest  brains,  my  lot  hath  been  to  fight. 

Doubt  not,  Your  Majesty,  that  he  who  once 

Outthought  and  outdid  scheming  Angelo, 

Shall  bring  to  wisdom  fancy  of  a  boy. 


l68  LYRICS     AND     DRAMAS 

The  King 
No  fancy,  it  bath  struck  too  deep,  I  fear. 

GONZAGA 

Nothing  in  youth  strikes  deep;  or  not  so  deep, 
But  it  can  be  persuaded  or  outplucked. 
Leave  then  the  boy  to  me.     I  have  dispatched 
On  all  sides  messengers  to  find  him  out 
And  bring  him  to  a  private  conference 
Forthwith ;  he  hath  not  gone  far  in  so  short 

time. 
Leave  him  to  me  and  be  yourself  unseen. 
You  by,  I  cannot  undertake  to  speak 
That  which  I  have  already  in  my  mind. 
And  I  have  here  a  list  of  those  most  near, 
Both  to  your  throne  and  heart ;  to  call  them  in 
And  at  the  fitting  moment  speak  to  them. 
But  be  not  seen;  each  moment  he  may  come. 
Such  was  the  summons  that  he  must  obey. 

The  King 

I'll  go  apart;  God  aid  your  conference. 

[Exit  the  King.  Mcamvhilc  a  courier 
has  entered,  with  lantern,  who 
stands  silent.] 


THE     KING 


169 


GONZAGA 

[Seeing  Courier] 

Well,  have  you  found  the  Prince?   When  will 
he  come? 

First  Courier 

My  lord,  where'er  you  sent  me  I  have  searched 
But  found  no  sign. 

GoNZAGA 

Nor  heard  you  any  news  ? 

First  Courier 

From  no  one  could  I  glean  a  certain  word. 
[A  second  courier  appears  on  the  other  side.] 

GONZAGA 

[To  First  Courier] 

\Wt\\,  go  again!    Don  Carlos  must  be  found. 
[Exit  First  Courier.    Gonzaga  turns 
on  the  second.] 
And  you  ? 


170  lyrics    and    dramas 

Second  Courier 

All  o'er  the  palace  garden  dark 
I  sought  and  left  no  cranny  unexplored. 
Night  makes  more  difficult  our  task;  the  eye 
Deceives,  and  we  must  touch  to  be  assured. 
[A  third  courier  comes  in  behind  /n'w.] 

GONZAGA 

You  there  who  come  behind,  you  have  some 
clue  ? 

Third  Courier 
None,  none,  my  lord,  I  fear  the  Prince  is  gone. 

GONZAGA 

Gone  whither? 

Third  Courier 

That  I  cannot  tell.    But  we 
Lose  time  to  look  for  him  still  hereabout. 


T  H  E     K  I  N  G  171 

GONZAGA 

Back,  both  of  you!    Although  all  night  you 

spend. 
You'll   be   well   paid;   the    King    for   tidings 

chafes. 

[Exeunt  Second  and  Third  Couriers. 
GoNZAGA_,  impatiently  turning 
from  them,  encounters  an  old  man, 
entering  slowly  on  the  opposite 
side,  holding  his  left  hand  behind 
him.] 

GONZAGA 

Ah !  old  Fernando !  well  from  you  I  knew 
I  would  have  certain  tidings  at  the  last. 
Is  the  Prince  on  his  way? 

Fernando 

Ay !  But  not  hither. 


'^1^  LYRICS     AND     DRAMAS 

GONZAGA 

Darkly  you  speak.     And  why  behind  you  held 
Your   left   hand,   as    to   hide    some   precious 

thing? 
A  jewel  is  it? 

Fernando 

'Tis  a  jewelled  thing. 

Gonzaga 


What  then? 


Fernando 


[Holding  a  dagger  blood-stained.] 
A  blade,  and  dyed  with  twofold  blood. 


Gonzaga 

[Starts  back  in  horror.] 
This  is  his  answer  eloquent  to  me! 


T  H  E     K  I  N  G  173 

Fernando 

This  blood  I  know ;  'tis  that  of  my  young  lord ; 
For  I  have  bound  up  many  a  careless  wound 
He  has  incurred ;  the  other  blood  was  strange. 
But  I  have  found  from  whom  the  stream  hath 
flowed. 

GONZAGA 

Say  then  what  other  blood  with  his  is  mixed. 

Fernando 

I  came  upon  two  lying  motionless 

In  a  dark  covert ;  and  the  moon  was  full. 

They  lay  in  no  embrace,  not  even  hand 

In  hand  was  clasped,  nor  to  each  other  turned ; 

As  though  they  feared  each  other  more  than 

death, 
And  yet  they  looked  a  lover  and  his  love. 
The  Prince  I  knew,  and  by  his  side  the  blade. 
The  other 


174  LYRICS     AN"D     DRAMAS 

GONZAGA 

But  one  other  there  could  lie. 

Give  me  the  knife!   You  still  composure  keep, 

And  summon  all  of  those  here  written  down, 

That  they  attend  forthwith  in  the  outer  room 

The  pleasure  of  the  King.     Take  this  and  go. 

[Exit  Fernando  with  papers.     Gon- 

ZAGA  stands  gazing  on  the  dagger 

held  before  him.  Silently  the  King 

enters    from    behind    the    throne. 

There  is  a  pause.^ 

The  King 
That  blade  I  gave  to  Carlos. 

Gonzaga 

He  hath  used  it. 
[The  King  for  a   time  preserves  a 
deadly  calm.] 

The  King 
This  is  the  life-blood  of  my  only  son. 


T  H  E     K  I  N  G  '75 

GONZAGA 

O  King! 

The  King 
And  she 

GoNZAGA 

She  too  hath  dyed  the  steel. 

The  King 

Strange  that  I  cannot  cry  aloud,  nor  weep ! 
Give  me  the  dagger !    It  is  doubly  mine ; 
This  horror  muffles  me  as  in  a  dream, 
And  all  unreal  is  this  encrusted  toy. 

[Suddenly,  with  a  loud  cry,  he  reels 
backward,    caught   in    Gonzaga's 
arms.] 
My  children! 

[A  pause;  slowly  he  recovers  himself.] 
Two  I  had;  a  boy  and  girl, 


176 


LYRICS     AN,  D     DRAMAS 


I  with  a  far-off  kiss  have  slain  them  both. 
If  they  can  die  so  young,  then  I  so  old 
Will  follow  them  down  to  an  equal  tomb, 
I,  the  grand  cause,  and  this  at  least  I  owe, 
My  place  is  with  them. 


GoNZAGA  [pointing  to  the  throne] 

No,  thy  place  is  there, 
With  suicide  an  opiate  refused, 
And  madness  a  rejected  luxury. 
Thy  life  is  not  thy  own;  thou  canst  not  now 
Abdicate,  leaving  on  the  throne  a  ghost; 
Whate'er  it  cost,  thou  must  resume  thy  reign. 
And  I  have  news  of  the  advancing  Moors, 
Granada  is  retaken;  in  the  hour 
Of  public  peril  crush  the  private  grief; 
The  nobles,  sharers  of  our  inner  mind, 
I  have  convened  already;  they  await 
A  word  to  gather  round  thee  as  of  old. 

[GoNZAGA  gives  a  sign,  and  the  higher 
nobles  of  the  court  enter  the 
throne-room  in  silence.] 


THE    KING  "^n 

The  King 

Gentlemen,  but  a  little  while  ago 
My  abdication  I  declared  and  made 
My  son  successor  to  this  arduous  chair. 
That  son,  my  son,  is  dead  and  lies  self-slain 
In  the  dark  garden ;  through  my  fault  he  died. 
When  I  was  young  I  took  too  little  heed, 
And  in  rash  passion  I  begot  a  child, 
A  daughter  whom  I  brought  into  the  court. 
This  was  a  young  man's  folly  natural. 
But  see  to  what  a  doom  those  kisses  led. 
My  son, — if  my  voice  break  a  little,  yet 
Have   patience — my   dear    son   this   daughter 

loved, 
Unknowing. 

\_A  murmur  of  astonishment  amid  the 
court,  who  yet  preserve  a  respect- 
ful silence.] 

They  two  secretly  would  meet. 
My  sin  was  but  rehearsal  of  their  sin, 
A  sad  enacting  of  the  tragic  scene. 
With  a  new  life  he  filled  her;  learning  then 
That  they  inherited  a  common  blood. 


( 


J78  LYRICS     AND     DRAMAS 

They  saw  but  one  path,  and  that  path  they 

took, 
And  He  together  in  some  grand  embrace. 
Not  now  forbidden.   When  this  doom  I  heard, 
I  too  resolved  me  on  a  similar  grave. 
But  now  I  see  how  easy  it  is  to  die, 
How  hard  to  live.     This  throne  I  re-ascend. 

[He  mounts  the  steps  of  the  throne 
alone,  unaided.] 

Bring  me  again  the  crown,  anoint  me  fresh 
With  oil;  a  second  coronation  this. 

[The  crown  is  again  placed  on  his 
head,  he  is  anointed  with  oil,  in 
silence  and  zvith  no  triumphant 
cry.] 

Here  I  resume  my  reign  v/ithout  a  hope; 
My  life  is  ashen,  as  this  ashen  dawn 
That  comes  upon  these  windows  colourless; 
It  is  as  grey,  it  is  as  cold,  as  faint. 
Yet  here  I  take  it  up.     I  had  supposed 
That  double  death  were  punishment  enough; 
Sequel  how  solemn  to  so  frail  an  hour. 
But  God,  unsatisfied,  must  still  inflict 


THE    KING  179 

This  grander  chastisement,  that  I  must  reign, 
And  un  forgetting  seem  that  I  forget, 
Losing  dead  children  in  a  Hving  task. 
I  have  laid  bare  my  soul  before  you  all, 
Nothing  have  I  concealed  and  nothing  slurred. 
Most  humbly  now  I  re-ascend  the  throne. 

[The  whole  of  the  court  fall  on  their 
knees  in  a  silence  of  supplication. 
There  is  a  pause.'] 

Hark !  In  the  bleakness  a  half-note  of  birds. 


Curtain 


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